Reminiscence
by IWillBelieveIt
Summary: Tobias has grown used to the lack of the Factions, to having Evelyn around. Tobias has never been able to adapt to the idea that Tris is gone, until one day, a confused but familiar face shows up. It's one thing to let Tris back into his life after a lengthy absence, but letting Tris into the life of their troubled daughter, whom she's never met, is another thing entirely...
1. Prologue

**Hi! This is my first contribution to the Divergent archive and at first I thought it was a stupid idea that would just go away with time, but after a conversation with ainsley25 about it, I realised that there's something here. And originally I wasn't going to do this, not just because I thought it was stupid, but also because I thought it had already been done. But then I looked into it and found that nothing like this, nothing like what I wanted to do had been done, not really. So I want to dedicate this story to ainsley25, because I would not be writing this story right now if it wasn't for him. Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you actually read the story.**

* * *

_I have always hated the emptiness that winter brings, the blank landscape and the stark difference between sky and ground, the way it transforms trees into skeletons and the city into a wasteland. Maybe this winter I can be persuaded otherwise._

_We drive past the fences and stoop by the front doors, which are no longer manned by guards. We get out, and Zeke seizes his mother's hand to stead her as she shuffles through the snow. As we walk into the compound, I know for a fact that Caleb succeeded, because there is no one in sight. That can only mean that they have been reset, their memories forever altered._

"_Where is everyone?" Amar says._

_We walk through the abandoned security checkpoint without stopping. On the other side, I see Cara. The side of her face is badly bruised, and there's a bandage on her head, but that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is the troubled look on her face. _

"_What is it?" I say._

_Cara shakes her head._

"_Where's Tris?" I say._

"_I'm sorry, Tobias."_

"_Sorry about what?" Christina says roughly. "Tell us what _happened!"

"_Tris went into the weapons lab instead of Caleb," Cara says. "She survived the death serum, but she . . . she was shot. I'm so sorry."_

_Most of the time I can tell when people are lying, and this must be a lie, because Tris is still alive, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed and her small body full of power and strength, standing in a shaft of light in the atrium. Tris is still alive, she wouldn't leave me here alone, she wouldn't go into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb. _

"_No," Christina says, shaking her head. "No way. There has to be some mistake."_

_Cara's eyes well up with tears. _

_It's then that I realise: Of course Tris would go into the Weapons Lab instead of Caleb. _

_Of course she would._

_Christina yells something, but to me her voice sounds muffled, like I have been submerged underwater. The details of Cara's face have also become difficult to see, the world smearing together into dull colours. I feel like I have no conscious control of my own body, so I barely register that my knees have given way beneath me and I'm crashing to the floor, my knees colliding with the floor in such a way that would be painful normally, if my whole body hadn't felt completely numb. _

_It takes me a long time to make myself focus on anything but that numb sensation, flooding my entire being, to make myself remember the tiny person that had been growing inside of Tris for the past eight months. _

_I make myself look back up at Cara, or at least at the blur that looks the most like her. "What about – " _

_I think Cara tries to smile at me. Her lips definitely curl, trying to make her muscles form the action, but I can't understand why anyone would want to try and smile at a time like this, when Tris is dead. _

"_Tobias . . ." Cara says. "The baby's fine. Do you want to see her?"_

_What I _want_ is to tell her that it shouldn't be like this, that I should have been able to see my child for at least another month, but I would have been able to see her with Tris, who would be exhausted but happy, her eyes bright and alert. _

"_What baby?" Christina asks, looking between me and Cara as I slowly get to my feet. "Wait, Tris was pregnant?"_

_Amar glances over at her as I feel Zeke's eyes burning holes into the back of my head. "You didn't notice?"_

"_I thought she was just getting fat," Christina says, her Candor upbringing showing._

_I decide not to comment, mainly because I'm pretty sure I don't have the strength to, and allow Cara to lead me away from the others._

_I expect her to be screaming when I walk in, but she's not. She's lying silently, wide awake, her blue eyes full of life as I follow Cara. Her eyes seemed to catch and hold my own as I walk towards the clear plastic box that she's lying inside. _

_I run my finger across the plastic as I stop beside it, watching her tiny, premature body as her head turns slightly to look at me. _

_I take a deep breath. "Will she make it?" _

_Cara lifts her shoulder. "She a month premature, Tobias. But she's strong. I think she'll pull through."_

_I try to imagine a life without Tris, raising a child on my own. I realise that I would rather live a life with one more connection to Tris, other than Caleb than to live the rest of my life completely cut off from her. _

* * *

When I woke, I found myself in total darkness, the only sound my own laboured breathing. I took a long, deep breath and covered my face with my hands, feeling my cheeks, soaked in the tears that the nightmare-slash-dream-slash-memory has brought on. I let my hands slip down so that they only covered my mouth and I stared across the room at the bookshelf against the wall, studying the dark outline of the shape of the books staked there.

I heard the faint creak of the door being pushed open and I turned towards the noise, relaxing when I noticed the pair of large eyes peering at me through the darkness.

"Daddy?" a soft voice asked, tiny and shrill and sounding just enough like Tris to make the dream really hit home, for the memory of the last time I saw her to make a deep ache erupt in my chest before I shoved it away, drowning it and submerging the pain so that I didn't have to deal with it for now.

"Are you alright? I could hear you crying." The little girl continued, pushing brown hair out of her eyes delicately and taking a tentative step inside.

"I'm fine, Clara." I said quietly, reaching behind me and flicking the light on. Clara blinked a few times as her five-year-old eyes adjusted to the sudden light and I smiled gently at her, stretching my arm out. "Come here, baby girl."

Clara moved forward, her little footsteps feather-light against the floor boards and as she reached the side of the bed, her fingers intertwined with mine and I pulled her up beside me, pulling the blankets over her body as she snuggled into my side. Together, we sat in silence for a long time and I wished that Tris was here to see her little girl, who was just as strong as she was, grow up.

"I love you, Dad." Clara said finally, her voice soft in the otherwise still room. I turned my head and pressed my lips against her forehead, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. "I love you too, Clara."


	2. Chapter 1

I sighed and opened my eyes, staring up at the blank, white ceiling above me. I reached and rubbed sleep out of my eyes, twisting my head so that I could see the alarm clock on the bedside table.

7:30 am

Groaning, I pushed myself out of bed and still half-asleep, I changed into jeans, pulling on a dark grey t-shirt as I walked out of my room, trudging down the hallway until I found myself standing in front of a door, flecks of pink and purple visible about three quarters up, leftover from the flowers I painted when Clara was three. Carefully, I eased the door open and stood in the doorway, looking to see if Clara was awake and getting reading for school.

And just as I suspected, she wasn't.

My sixteen-year-old daughter was still fast asleep, her cheek cushioned on her arm with her messy brown hair splayed out across the pillow. I smiled, moving towards the bed. I placed my hand on Clara's shoulder and she turned her head to the side, turning her face away so I couldn't see her expression. Biting back a grin of amusement, I shook Clara's shoulder again and said, gently, "Clara, come on, wake up."

Clara didn't answer, obviously hoping that if she slept in late enough, I would just let her stay home from school. And I might have, if she'd inherited her mother's acting skills – I never could tell the difference between Tris' lies and her truths as they came out of her mouth. I could only ever tell them apart by the aftermath of her actions – generally her lies were the ones that got her into trouble.

"Clara." I said, shaking her shoulder gently. "Clara, come on, get up."

Clara mumbled something into her pillow, but she didn't move. I sighed, feigning that I was going to walk out of the room. As I passed the end of Clara's bed, I fisted my hand around the end of Clara's blankets and pulled them with me as I walked.

I stood at the end of her bed, the blanket scrunched up on the floor by my feet, watching as Clara squealed as the cold hair hit her bare skin, abruptly pulling herself into sitting position and glaring at me. "Dad!"

I intended to keep my expression neutral, but I couldn't help grinning. "Are you ready to get up now, Clara?"

"No," Clara said, laying back down and curling up, even though the cold air made her shiver.

"Clara, don't be stupid," I told her. "Get up."

"No." Clara muttered into her arm, pulling her legs up tighter to her chest.

"Fine. I'll get a bucket of water, then."

Suddenly Clara was on her feet, picking up the blanket I'd pulled off her body and throwing it onto the bed. Then she pushed me out of the room, slamming the door in my face.

"And don't just go back to sleep!" I called through the wood of her door.

"Yeah, yeah." I heard Clara say, sounding bored.

* * *

I was downstairs, in the kitchen, sipping a coffee I'd made a little too hot as I tried to make myself walk back upstairs and put on the suit I was required to wear for work when Clara stomped in, her blue eyes angry.

I surveyed her outfit, noticing that her shirt showed at least three inches of her stomach. I sighed, clicking my fingers. Clara turned to face me, glowering at me through stormy blue eyes as I said, "Clara, go and put some clothes on."

"These are clothes!"

"Clothes the school will let you wear." I told her. Clara sneered, but she turned and stomped up the stairs again. I could hear her footsteps, pounding against the carpeted floor, until she reached her bedroom, where she slammed her door shut. I sighed and dipped my head, running a hand through my hair before I downed the remainder of my coffee and then walked up the stairs to my bedroom. I gave my made bed one longing look, recalling how soft it was, before I turned away and pulled out the suit I had to wear for work. As I buttoned up my shirt and tightened my tie until it felt tight against my throat, I sighed and slipped my feet into my shoes. I jogged down the stairs to find Clara in the kitchen once again, eating a bowl of cereal. She'd changed her shirt to a red tank top and a black jacket left unzipped.

"So you take off a shirt with only half the material it should, only to put on a normal shirt and a jacket?" I asked in amusement, leaning against the counter. Clara looked up at me through her hair, and even through the veil of light brown, I could see the coldness in her light blue eyes. "Shut up, Dad."

I sighed. I'd given up hope on chastising Clara for being rude to me in the past couple of months; the more I told her off for it, the more she did it, and she only ever seemed to do it to me. Instead of lecturing her, I said, "I can drop you off if you – "

"Forget it," Clara said, cutting me off. "I'll walk."

"Are you sure? I mean, it's not – "

"Dad." Clara said, standing up. "Stop worrying. I have legs. I'll walk."

"It's my job to worry about you," I told her.

Clara shook her head and smiled. "Dad, it's you job to look after the – "

"You're more important than the city," I told her. "You need to be around people, Clara. You're always alone. You're a teenager. You should be having fun."

Clara quirked an eyebrow, moving to pick her bag up from the floor. "Because you had so much fun when you were my age, Dad?"

I'd told her about Marcus, and of course she knew about the Factions; it was compulsory that every child learned about it in school. But still, I couldn't bring myself to tell her about Tris, about how she died. The most I had told Clara was that her mother's name was Beatrice.

"Chicago was a different place when I was your age." I told her.

"_Right_," Clara said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "well, I've got to go, so I'll see you later."

"Your grandmother's coming over for dinner tonight."

Clara groaned. "Dad, do she have to? I mean, really?"

I sighed. "Yes, she has to. She's your family."

"So is Uncle Caleb." Clara retorted, folding her arms over her chest. "Why don't I ever get to see him?"

"I'm not having this argument with you, Clara. Go to school."

"But, Dad – "

"Go. Now." I told her, pointing out the door. Clara glared, her blue eyes steely and cold, but she did as I said, stomping out the door and slamming the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 2

When I got home, I half-expected Clara to be curled up on the couch, her nose buried in a book. Instead, I found her in her room, sitting on her bed and glowering across the room at the dartboard hanging on the wall.

I leaned against the doorframe, studying the dartboard as she threw a dart at it. There was a picture of Clara and a teenage boy taped to the cork surface of the dart board. The boy had a mop of black hair atop a narrow face and blue eyes. I immediately recognised him as Ryan, Clara's impolite boyfriend. I'd allowed her to date him because despite her attitude, I believed that Clara was old enough and smart enough to make her own decisions. From the look on Clara's face as she pulled her arm back and then flung it forward, watching as the sharp point of the dart embedded itself into the space between Ryan's eyes, I figured that that was no longer the case.

"What's with you?" I asked, looking back at her. Clara made a soft, practically inaudible grunting sound as she let another dart fly, this one making contact on the corner of Ryan's ear. Even though Clara was only harmlessly throwing darts at a photo, I was reminded of when I'd thrown knives at Tris upon Eric's request when she'd stood up for Al during her Dauntless initiation.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat at the memory of Tris, I asked, "Clara?"

"Ryan broke up with me." Clara told me, scowling at the photo of Ryan before she let another dart fly, this one making contact through Ryan's Adam's apple, barely visible over the bottom of the photo. "For Ashley, of all people."

"Who's Ashley?" There were so many people that Clara disliked that I'd begun to lose track of who was who.

"The whore." Clara replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as she threw another dart, watching as the point imbedded itself into Ryan's ear.

"Isn't that Peter's daughter?" I asked.

"Correct." Clara said, standing up and crossing the room to yank the darts out of the dartboard.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, putting my hands in my pockets. Clara laughed, a sound I didn't get to hear from her so much anymore, amusement filling her features as she asked, "Do you really want to talk about boys, Dad?"

I considered lying to her, but decided against it. She had an uncanny ability to tell if someone was lying to her and she hated people lying to her. I didn't want to make the increasing rift between us bigger. So I laughed sheepishly, looking away as I said, "No, not really."

Clara shook her head and smiled, yanking the photo down off the dartboard and scrunching it up before she placed the darts on a shelf, muttering, "I didn't think so."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I thought better of it and closed it again. Then, I made myself speak, and I said, "For what it's worth, your mother never liked Peter."

Clara turned to look at me, her mouth falling wide open. "You – you – "

I realised quickly what her speechlessness was about – the sentence that I'd just spoken was the first time I'd willingly spoken of Tris for as long as Clara could remember, probably.

"Mum . . . didn't like Peter?" Clara asked, picking her words carefully.

I nodded. "Hated him, in fact. But she saved his life once so he saved hers, just to even the score."

Clara sat down on the end of her bed, looking down at her hands nervously. I noticed her eyes darting nervously, as if she wanted to ask something, but she wasn't quite sure if it was a good idea, but if she was anything like Tris, which she was, then she would ask anyway.

Finally, Clara took a long, deep breath and pushed her hair out of her face as she looked up at me, wiping her palms on her jeans. Then, she asked, "What was she like?"

"She was . . ." I paused as I moved to sit beside Clara on the bed, leaning forward and rest my hands on my knees. "She was brave. And intelligent. And selfless. And – "

"So, essentially, she was all the Factions?" Clara asked. "A true Divergent, through and through?"

"Yes." I told her. "She was. She was the strongest person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Clara bit her lip and asked, "How'd she die?"

I took a deep breath and told her. I told her how Tris had put other people before herself, even the person who'd betrayed her. By the time I was finished, Clara was staring at me with wide eyes and I had a lump in my throat that refused to go away and suddenly I knew that neither of us wanted to have dinner with my mother, even if Zeke was going to be there.

"She sounds like she was amazing." Clara said finally, looking up from her feet and up at me through her hair.

"She was," I told her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Clara rested her head against my shoulder and I tried to think back to the last time she'd allowed herself to be in the same room as me for this long.

"Dad?" Clara asked, looking up at me.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Do we really have to have dinner with Evelyn tonight?"

I looked down at her, thinking that she was just trying to get out of it, but when I looked at her, I saw that she just wanted to have some time alone, mourning and thinking about a mother she'd never known.

I kissed her forehead. "I'll tell her you've come down sick."

"Evelyn doesn't like you lying to her." Clara said and I laughed. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."


	4. Chapter 3

That night, long after Clara had retired to her room for the night, I found myself sitting on the couch in the living room, the light from the television illuminating my face. I thought back to my conversation with Clara. I wondered how I'd gone so wrong with her, allowed her to become so lost, so angry with the world and with me.

I wondered if things would be different if Tris were still alive, if she'd grown up knowing her mother she wouldn't be so angry and so isolated – the last two months when she'd been with Ryan were the most she'd been out of the house since she was eleven. As much as I'd dislike the kid – and as glad as I was that the news that they weren't together anymore – I'd liked how he got her out of the house, instead of alternating between screaming at me and holing herself up in her room. Maybe there was something more I could do – some perfect solution that was staring me right in the face that I was missing, some grand ultimate solution to every problem that existed in my life that was so obvious, but yet I was still missing it.

I closed my eyes and sighed, massaging my forehead before I stood, switching the television off and trudging up the stairs. When I reached my bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and flung myself onto the bed, burying my face in the pillows and sighing again. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, but when I rolled over with my arm draped across my eyes, I could feel the sun's glare against my closed eyelids, its heat warming the side of my face.

I groaned and let my arm drop from my face, turning my head to the side to look at the alarm clock. When I saw the time, I groaned again softly, rolling to the side and off the bed. Hardly feeling like I'd slept at all, I trudged to the wardrobe.

When I walked downstairs, moving towards the counter to pour myself a cup of coffee. I glanced across at Clara, still dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of drawstring pants, her hair a tangled mane around her head, as she sat hunched over a bowl of cereal, chewing wearily.

My coffee clutched in my hand, I walked over to Clara and banged my hand down on the table top twice. Clara shot up straight in her seat, mockingly glaring up at me. I smiled down at her, glad for once to be receiving a mocking glare from her instead of a genuine one.

"Late night?" I asked, sliding into the seat beside her.

Clara leaned her cheek against her palm, nodding. "Just thinking."

I took a deep breath. Maybe I should have spaced out telling her about Tris, maybe I should have told her piece by piece, instead of just telling her all about her mother at once.

But even as I thought it, I knew that never could have happened – it had to be all at once, because I'd have kept putting it off, kept convincing myself that I'd get around to telling her someday.

"You alright, Dad?" Clara asked, her voice soft and gentle.

"I'm fine," I told her, noticing that her bowl was now empty and tapping her leg. "Go on. Go get ready for school."

Clara sighed, but she got up and trudged up the stairs, raking a hand through her messy brown hair. I smiled and took a long gulp of my coffee. For the first time in a very long time, she seemed a little like the little girl I remembered, with a bright smile, who just wanted to be happy and to laugh. I sighed softly, wondering that if I'd told Clara about Tris sooner, I'd have been able to keep that little girl around a little while longer.

* * *

Fridays were always the quietest day at work. They were the day, generally, that I hated the most because they were slow and it gave me time to think, time that I didn't want, most of the time.

That Friday was different.

When I came back from lunch, I started on some paperwork that I'd been putting off all week. I'd barely started when my assistant, Mia, called through on the intercom; _"Sir, are you back yet?"_

"You know I am, Mia. And I've told before about calling me 'Sir'." I said.

"_Sorry, Sir," _She said, and then I heard her breathe softly through her teeth in frustration. I grinned and rolled my eyes, leaning against the top of the table. At nineteen, Mia was three years older than Clara and had just finished high school. Being Zeke's eldest daughter, she and Clara had practically grown up together.

"Don't worry about it." I told her. "Is something wrong?"

"_There's a woman here to see you." _Mia said. She paused, and then, "_She says her name's Beatrice and that it's imperative that she sees you."_

Glad to have a distraction, I said, "Alright, send her in."

I turned back to the paperwork as the door opened and then closed. From the corner of my eye, I saw a slim woman with long, blonde hair.

"Tobias," the woman – Beatrice – said. I looked up at the sound of my name, unused to hearing it in these surroundings. I studied her carefully – she was wearing blue jeans and a red shirt. Her long blonde hair spilled across her shoulders, framing soft features. At first I was struck by how much she looked like Tris – until I saw the tattoo on her collarbone.

Three birds, flying towards her heart.

The exact same tattoo that Tris got during her Dauntless initiation – one bird to represent each family member that she'd left behind when she left Abnegation.

"Tris," I breathed, leaning forward to stare at her.

I watched as Tris' mouth slowly curved into a smile, wavering and unsure of herself. "Hi, Tobias."


	5. Chapter 4

I took a long moment to carefully pick my next words. "How are you alive, Tris?"

Tris opened her mouth to say something, but then obviously thought better of it and closed it again. I waited until she said quietly, "I . . . I don't exactly know."

"How can you not – a memory serum." I said.

Tris nodded. "I don't remember anything before the past sixteen years."

"But wait, hang on. You remembered _me_." I said. I needed to work this out, to know whether she remembered being pregnant or not. To know whether she remembered the unborn child who had been growing inside of her.

"I remembered flashes," Tris said quietly. "I remembered faces, things people had said. Nothing solid and nothing that would be worth trying to find anyone with."

"Until . . ."

"Over the past year, they've started to become more vivid than they were before, to the point that I could recall certain people that were close to me," Tris said. "It took me a long time, but I finally managed to put names to faces."

She'd been staring at a scratch on the front of my desk, making sure that her gaze never met mine, but then she raised her eyes to mine, her expression soft as she recalled a list of names; "Christina. Zeke. Marlene. Shauna. Uriah. Tori. And you, Tobias"

I half-expected her to mention Clara, to have her question me on the daughter she'd never even met. But she didn't. Instead, she simply tilted her head slightly and watched me carefully, as if she was waiting for something from me.

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, sitting back in my chair and running a hand through my hair. "I don't understand. Tris, you were dead. You were shot. Several times. I don't . . . how are you still alive?"

"I . . ." Tris trailed off, biting her lip gently. "I don't know. That's something I still can't remember; it's still only flashes. Vivid flashes, but . . . flashes." She smiled tentatively and I watched her, taking in all the features that for the past sixteen years, I'd only seen mirrored in Clara.

I took a deep breath as it finally sunk in that this was Tris, she was here, she was alive, she was okay and my heart started to pound against my ribcage. I turned to the intercom and pressed a button before I said, "Mia?"

"_Yes, Sir?" _Mia chirped, and I completely missed the fact that she'd called me 'Sir' once again; there was too much that my brain was trying to process and in that moment, she could have called me some rude, impolite name and I probably wouldn't have noticed.

"Do I have any appointments this afternoon?" I asked. I could feel Tris' eyes on the side of my face and I glanced at her, watching as she looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"_No, Sir," _Mia replied.

"Reschedule them," I said. "Something's come up and I need to go home. Clara gotten herself into trouble again."

At the mention of Clara, Tris' head shot up, her eyes flying wide. I averted my gaze, staring at a scratch on the keyboard on the computer. I hadn't meant to spring Clara on Tris like that, but an excuse about Clara was the easiest and most efficient way for us to get out with the minimum amount of questions asked; Clara was always getting in trouble at school, either for violating the dress code, or for picking fights with people like Ashley.

"_What's it for this time?" _Mia asked, and I could hear the laughter in her voice.

"She picked another fight with Ashley." I said.

"_Alright, Sir. I'll reschedule all your meetings for this afternoon."_

"Thank you, Mia." I said, and then stood, catching Tris' eye. She was staring at me as I shrugged on my jacket and then lead the way out. Beside me, Tris was silent, her eyes cast downward as she kept her hands deep in her pockets, until she pressed her lips together and asked, "Who's Clara?"

"Our – " I cut myself off. I'd been about to say 'our daughter', but I decided to hold off on the knowledge that Clara was Tris' daughter too, as well as my own. Clearly, Tris didn't remember being pregnant, so maybe it wasn't the best idea to dump the fact that she had a teenage daughter that she'd never met onto her straight off.

"She's my daughter," I told Tris, glancing across at her to gauge her reaction.

"Oh," Tris said, focusing her gaze on the ground. I wanted to tell her about how Clara was her child, how I'd never been with anyone after she'd died, because I could never do it, every time I tried to convince myself to try, because it felt like I was betraying Tris in some way.

But I didn't. I didn't tell Tris about Clara being her daughter because even now, I knew I had to tread carefully with her, had to be careful with what I said and how I said it. I didn't know what had gone down, but something had happened to her over the past sixteen years since I'd last seen her.

When we got home, Tris paused on the sidewalk, staring up at the house, almost as if she was in awe. I turned back to her, smiling as I watched her take in the features of the house. "It's just a house, Tris."

"No, I know," Tris replied, looking back at me. "It's not just a house, though, Tobias. It's more than that."

"Than what is it?" I asked her.

Tris' eyes met mine and then she smiled, her eyes finding the pink and white paint splattered on the side of the house, from when Clara and I painted her room when she was six. Then she looked back at me, her eyes dancing with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "It's a home, Tobias."


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! First off, I want to quickly clear up some stuff with this story that was brought to my attention by crazybooklover7676 (thank you again, I know I've said that already, but I cannot thank you enough) about the plotlines with this story, to do with the plot holes concerning Clara and Mia. The first one is that, obviously, the whole Divergent series takes places over the period of something like two months (a ridiculously short amount of time for such an epic yet tragic love story as Four and Tris' to be told over, but I won't go there), but I've said that Tris was eight months pregnant when she 'died' and in effect, Clara was born. And also with Mia – I said that she was three years older than Clara, which doesn't really work if you're going by the storyline of the books, because that would make Zeke fifteen when he had her – so that doesn't work either. Basically, the solution to both issues is this – in order for this story to work, I've played with the timelines a little bit, so that the course of the books happened over the time of about 10 – 12 months (whatever floats your boat) and Zeke is about five years older than Tobias. I think that's the major plot holes covered, but if there's any more that I haven't addressed, please don't hesitate to let me know – I'll try and sort it as best as I can. I'll let you actually read the chapter now. **

* * *

I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders as Tris walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the table and looking around at her surroundings. I noticed that every time she looked at something, she seemed to drink in the very sight of it, as if it may be the last thing she would ever see.

"I'll be right back," I told her. Tris turned to me and nodded, before she turned to inspect the table. I left her to it and moved up the stairs, walking down the hallway to Clara's bedroom. I pushed the door open cautiously, wondering what mood she'd be in, and found her sitting on her bed, once again throwing darts at the dartboard, although today there was no picture of Ryan for her to play target practise with.

"Clara?"

Clara looked up, her hand frozen in the air from where she'd been aiming, the dart dangling between her fingers. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and I silently thanked whoever cared that she was in a good mood.

"Can you come downstairs?" I asked. "There's someone down here I want you to meet."

Clara looked like she was going to resist, but then she nodded silently, dropping the dart onto her bed as she walked over. She obviously couldn't help putting her own opinion into it, though.

"Please tell me this is not one of your work _friends,_" Clara said, practically shuddering as she said the last work.

"You mean my colleagues?" I asked.

"Yeah, those too," Clara muttered, waving her hand dismissively.

"She's not one of my colleagues," I told her. "She's an old friend of mine."

Clara simply shrugged her shoulders as I walked down the stairs, following after me. I heard her stop as Tris looked up at our approach, remaining to stand on the last step. I stepped out of the way as Tris got to her feet and glanced at Clara, who looked back at me, her blue eyes wide. Clara's eyes kept flickering between me and Tris, as if she was constantly trying to ask me with imaginary telepathic powers who Tris was.

I cleared my throat. "Clara, this is Tris, an old friend of mine. Tris, this is my daughter, Clara."

With that, Clara seemed to remember the basic procedures of meeting somebody for the first time. She crossed the room until she stood in front of Tris, holding her hand out for her to shake. Tris looked surprised, and hesitated for a moment, but then she grasped Clara's hand firmly and shook it once before she released her and stepped back, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and looking away, although I knew she was probably studying Clara through her peripheral vision. As I watched the two of them, I realised that I now I had two problems that I needed to solve; one, I needed to figure out how I was supposed to tell Tris that the girl standing only a few metres away from her now was her daughter, her own flesh and blood, and two, how I was supposed to tell Clara that her mother was actually alive.

Clara moved towards the counter and plucked an apple out of the bowl sitting on the counter. I watched as she bit into it and chewed thoughtfully, carefully studying Tris over the gleaming green skin of the apple.

"Dad?" Clara said, her mouth suddenly empty as she swallowed her mouthful.

"Hmm?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and leaning against the doorframe.

"Christina rang." Clara said. "She said she's going to drop by later because she wants to talk to you about something." Her brow furrowed and she looked across at the clock hanging on the wall before she looked back at me. "You're home earlier than normal."

"Tris showed up. I figured I could afford to miss out on half a day's work for an old friend." I said. Tris turned to look at me, her lips curving into a small smile.

Clara glanced between me and Tris almost suspiciously before she seemed to brighten considerably and asked, "How long are you staying, Tris?"

"I wasn't – "

"As long as she likes." I interrupted. Tris turned to look at me, her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off again. "And you'll be sleeping in my bed. I'll take the couch."

"No, I'm not – "

"You can take my bed, then." Clara offered, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. I stared at her over Tris' shoulder with my eyes narrowed – she was acting out of character this afternoon, unusually happy and obedient. "Whose would you rather?"

"I'm not taking a child's bed." Tris said, glancing quickly at Clara before her eyes returned to me.

"I'm not – " Clara started to object. I reached up and massaged the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I said, "Clara, go up to your room, please."

"But – "

"_Clara!" _I shouted, and Clara gave me a cold look and I felt a twinge of guilt for ruining her good mood, because they were so rare these days, but then she was gone, stomping up the stairs to her room. I kept my eyes closed until I heard Clara's door slam shut, and then I counted to three before I opened my eyes again to find Tris leaning against the counter, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched me.

"You're sleeping in my bed, then. And that's the end of it."

Tris looked like she wanted to argue, but then she nodded and brushed her hair out of her eyes. I gave her a small smile and straightened up, gesturing for her to come with me as I said, "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour," even though our house, although two stories high, was possibly one of the most simple houses in the whole of Chicago.


	7. Chapter 6

"And this is where you'll be sleeping," I told Tris, pushing the door of my bedroom open and leaning against the doorframe. Tris peered inside the room and looked back at me, determination already filling her features. I internally sighed as she said, "I'm not taking your bed from you, Tobias."

"We already had this discussion." I told her. "You're taking my bed."

I smiled as Tris' jaw clenched, and she looked as if she might argue the matter, but then she simply sighed and looked away, her blonde hair falling forward to conceal her face from my view. She ducked her head and swept her hair out of her face, curling it behind her ear. I watched as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something, but then Clara's voice from downstairs cut her off; "Dad, Christina's here!"

I gave myself roughly three seconds to worry about Christina's reaction to Tris before I turned, walking down the corridor. As I climbed down the stairs, Christina looked up, her eyes widening dramatically as she saw Tris, to the point that it would have been almost comical, if it was only really just beginning to sink in for me.

"That's not – " Christina started, but then she glanced across at Clara, standing at her side, and clamped her mouth shut. Clara, confused, glanced between Christina and me before she looked at Tris, who was staring at Christina with wide blue eyes.

"What – " Clara started, but then Christina blinked, as if she'd been daydreaming since Tris and I had appeared, and she had only just resurfaced.

"Tobias!" Christina cried, moving forward and grasping my arm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh . . . yeah, sure." I replied, letting her drag me out of the room. I stumbled after her as she dragged me into the living room, closing the door behind us and folding her arms over her chest.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Christina asked.

"Uh . . . no?" It came out more like a question than an answer, and Christina pursed her lips, her blazing.

"Then how is she here, Tobias? She's dead, Tobias. She's _been _dead for sixteen years! How is she alive? How is she here?"

I ran a hand through my hair and sank down into the couch. "I don't know. She showed up at the office earlier. She doesn't remember how she survived, Chris. I don't think she even remembers being shot."

"How does she _not _remember?" Christina asked incredulously. "Does she even remember being pregnant?"

I gave her a sharp look and hissed, "Keep your voice down!"

Christina glanced towards the closed door, as if Tris and Clara were sitting outside of it, their ears pressed against the wood as they tried to listen to our conversation, although I highly doubted that they would do that. Then Christina glanced at me, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, quieter. "Does Clara know?"

I shook my head. "She still thinks her mother's name is Beatrice, but sooner or later, she's going to connect the dots, or I'm going to have to tell her."

Christina nodded, pulling her hair so that it gathered on her right shoulder. "So who are you going to tell first? Tris or Clara?"

I clenched my hands together and used them to support my head as I dropped my chin onto them, staring at the blank screen of the television in front of me. I took a deep breath. "I honestly have no idea. Either way, she's not going to speak to me for a month for not telling her straight away."

"Well, if you tell her, instead of leaving her to figure it out for herself, she'll probably only be silent towards you for a fortnight," Christina said, sitting beside me on the couch.

"How reassuring," I said sarcastically. From the corner of my eye, I saw Christina's small, sad smile and I sighed, running a hand through my hair before I said to her, "You came here for a reason. You didn't just stop by because you can. Is it Evelyn?"

Christina shook her head. "No, but it's a . . . similar ballpark."

I dipped my head, dropping it into my hands and screaming into my palms. Then, I took a deep breath and raised my head, letting my hands drop into my lap. "Please don't tell me that what I'm think is correct."

"Well, I don't know what you're thinking, so I don't know. What do you think I'm saying, Tobias?"

"Marcus has come back to Chicago," I said slowly, avoiding Christina's eyes, even though there's no possible way for me to miss her slow nod. "I'm sorry, Tobias."

I sat back against the couch, sighing. "Have you seen him?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "I work with people moving in and out of the city, Tobias. Of course I've seen him."

"Does he know about Clara?" I asked. That was my first thought – I didn't want Marcus knowing that Clara even existed, just like I didn't want him knowing that Tris was back and alive. Marcus had left around the same time that Evelyn did, and unlike Evelyn, who'd returned to Chicago only two and a half years after her departure, Marcus had never returned, until now.

Christina shrugged. "If he does, he didn't mention her. Tobias, I don't think he'll even show up here. I highly doubt that he's that stupid."

I grunted in response. "Don't you think it's just a little strange that Tris and Marcus _both _happen to turn up within hours of each other?"

Christina shrugged again. "I'd say it's just a coincidence."

I shook my head. "I don't really believe in those."

Christina lifted one shoulder and opened her mouth to say something, but then the door swung open and Clara stumbled in, her blue eyes wide. Tris stumbled in after her, calling her name, but she stopped just behind Clara, her gaze drifting between me and Christina quickly, almost as if she was unsure of what she was seeing and her mind was still trying to decipher the data that her eyes were giving her.

Clara, however, was staring at me, her blue eyes wide and questioning. "Dad, who the _hell _is Marcus?"


	8. Chapter 7

I got to my feet. "How long were you listening for?"

"Just long enough to hear about this Marcus guy," Clara said, her eyes blazing. "Who – is – Marcus? And why is it much a bad thing that he's _come back _to Chicago? Was he here once before?"

"Chris – " I started, but I broke off when Christina got to her feet and all but dragged Tris out of the room, closing the door behind the both of them. Clara watched them leave until the door was firmly shut, turning to look at me with hard blue eyes. As I sank back down into the couch, Clara sat beside me, her expression softening as she asked, "Who is Marcus?"

I took a deep breath. "Marcus is . . ." I trailed off, a lump forming in my throat from all the emotions, all the shocks that I'd had to deal with in the space of roughly four hours, and this, Marcus' return, well and truly took the cake. "Marcus is your grandfather, Clara."

"You told me my grandfather died before I was born. You told me he had a heart attack and died," Clara said. "Why?"

"Because he . . ." I averted my gaze from Clara's, staring down at my hands. "He and I don't have a very good relationship, me and my father."

"Why?"

"It's complicated, Clara."

"_Why?"_

"It's not important." I said.

I saw Clara's jaw clench as she fought the impulse to start yelling at me. Then, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. Then she opened her eyes and said quietly, "I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad."

"No, clearly you're not." I said. In another life, Clara would have been coming for her Choosing Day, would have had to choose between Abnegation, Dauntless, Erudite, Amity or Candor. Somehow, I figured that she would have picked Dauntless – and that wasn't just because she'd announced it when she came home from school the day that they'd been learning about the Factions when she was six.

"Was he abusive?" Clara asked quietly. I turned to look at her and nodded once. Clara made a soft sound, somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, and reached out, taking my hand. She squeezed my fingers, as hard as she did when she was little and she'd woken up screaming and crying in the middle of the night in midst of a nightmare. I glanced at her and squeezed back, tightening my fingers around her much slimmer ones.

"Do you think he'll come here?" Clara asked finally, her voice wavering just a little bit.

"I don't know," I said. Clara looked away and I grasped her hand tightly, making her look up with shining blue eyes and I felt something tug at my heart. She'd never met Marcus, but somehow the idea of coming face to face with him scared her. I squeezed her hand again and gave her as reassuring a smile as I could muster. "But Clara, if he does, I promise you that he won't hurt you."

Clara stared at me. "You're not afraid of him?"

"I was. Once." I told her. "But not anymore."

And then we sat there for a long time, not saying a word, just basking the silence that quickly enveloped us both.

* * *

Later, after Christina had left and Clara had retired to her room for the night, Tris and I sat at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of each of us. I noticed that Tris kept looking up at me, her blue looking up at me through her sandy-coloured eyelashes.

"If I knew anything about Marcus being back, I'd tell you," Tris said finally, her voice soft, so soft that I barely heard her.

"I know." I said quietly, glancing at her and then lifting my mug to my lips, pouring a mouthful of the bitter coffee down my throat before I lowered my mug to the table. "I know you don't know anything about it, Tris . . . How much _do _you remember of Marcus?"

Tris shrugged and took a gulp of her coffee, shaking her head as she swallowed. "Not much. Flickers, flashes. Enough to know why I don't like him."

I nodded. "So, you don't remember anything past the last sixteen years?"

"Yes. Didn't I tell you that already?"

"Yeah, I just . . . it's a little hard to absorb all of this." I said. "So how long have you been in the city, exactly?"

Tris sighed, looking away. "A few weeks. I needed to familiarise myself with the city before I allowed you to know that I was here. Although, it has changed."

"Changed?"

"The last time I was here, there was Factions. Now, there hasn't been Factions for sixteen years and all my friends have new lives – Christina's dealing with people coming in and out of the city, you're a politician with a teenage daughter and . . ." she trailed off, biting her lip as a faint blush crept across her neck and cheeks. "I don't know about everyone else."

I felt my brow furrow. "You haven't even been to see Caleb?"

Tris shook her head, sitting back in her chair. "I'll go and see him tomorrow or something."

I nodded as she asked, "What's with Clara?"

I frowned. "What do you mean, 'what's with Clara'?"

"Well she seems kind of sad," Tris explained. "I thought you might know why."

I shrugged. "Granted, her boyfriend did just break up with her for Peter's daughter."

I half-expected Tris to roll her eyes when I said that, to make some remark about Peter and about Ashley, but instead she just gave me a small, sad smile and said, "She's not that kind of sad, Tobias."


	9. Chapter 8

_I'm awoken by someone pounding on my front door at three in the morning, so loud that they're probably going to wake the whole of Dauntless. I groan and somehow manage to roll my tired body out of the bed, trudging over to the front door of my apartment and pulling open the door to reveal Tris. I start to smile, but then the dull light hits her skin a certain way, and I notice the drying tears on her cheeks, the set of her jaw that tells me that she's fighting to hold back more tears._

_Suddenly wide awake, I reach toward her face and brush my thumb across her cheekbone, brushing the glittering tears from her skin, and I sweep some of her hair behind her ear. _

_Tris brings her gaze to meet mine and take a deep breath, taking air deep into her lungs before she asks, "Can I talk to you?"_

_I study her features, trying – even though I know it's impossible – to read her expression, to read her mind. Then, I nod and step aside, letting her inside. Tris gives me a small smile as she passes me, a faint movement of the corners of her lips turning up in gratitude. I follow her into the bedroom, where she sits herself onto the end of my bed, her fingers kneading the skin on the backs of her hands nervously from where they rested in her lap. I stand in the doorway, watching her, trying to read her expression once again. _

"_Tobias," Tris says, still kneading her hands nervously as she looks up at me. I start towards her, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands in my own, kneading the backs of her hands with my thumbs, her calloused fingertips brushing against my own skin. _

"_Tobias," Tris says again, her hands catching mine and holding tightly. I stop and look up at her, taking in her expression. She looks down and takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you something."_

"_What is it?" I ask, looking up at her. I notice that her hands are shaking against mine and I grasp her hands tighter to steady her, to let her know that's alright, that I'm here and that I'm not going anywhere. I already have a faint idea why she's like this, what's shaken her up so much that she's shaking and on the verge of tears._

"_Tobias . . ." Tris says, trailing off and looking down. She takes a deep breath and all but forces out, "I'm pregnant."_

_It's exactly what I suspected, exactly what I kind of expected her to say, but it still takes me by surprise. I sigh, rocking back on my heels and letting my hold on her hands loosen slightly, but I don't let her go. I stare at the floor for a long time then, but I don't loosen my grip on Tris' hands, I just sit there for a long time, staring at the floor as I try to adjust to the idea of being a father._

_I must've been silent for longer than I thought I had, because eventually Tris says, "Please say something, Tobias."_

_I look up at her, taking in her blue eyes brimming with tears and I reach up, placing my palm against her cheek. Tris sighs, closing her eyes and leaning her cheek into my palm, her hand coming up to cover mine. As her fingers brush across my skin, her eyes open and look down at me, and I smile up at her, standing and sitting on the bed beside her. I brush her hair out of her face and search her eyes before pulling her towards me and pressing my face into her hair. Tris' breath hitches, but she wraps her arms around my waist and presses her face into my shoulder, her small form shaking with relief. _

"_I love you," I breathe into her hair. Tris smiles faintly into my shirt and nestles her head into the crook of my neck, blinking away tears that I feel falling onto the bare skin of my neck._

"_I'm scared, Tobias." Tris says finally, her voice shaking._

"_I know. I am too," I tell her. "But we'll be okay, Tris. I promise."_

_I kissed her forehead, where her hair met her head gently as she breathed, "I love you, Tobias."_

* * *

I woke up with a sore neck, something hard and round pressed against the back of my head. Then I realised that I was lying on the couch, using one headrest as a pillow while my legs dangled over the other end, the headrest resting under the crook of my knees. I groaned and sat up, kneading the knot in the muscles at the back of my neck. I could feel a slight pain in my lower back from sleeping on the couch, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

"To be fair, I did offer to let Tris sleep in my bed."

I looked up to find Clara standing in the doorway, looking amused. I stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, until I remembered yesterday's events – Tris showing up at the office and Christina's news of Marcus' return.

"To be fair," I told her, "it's not fair for me to let Tris push you out of your bed, and it's not fair to make our guest sleep on the couch."

Clara shrugged, taking a bite of her toast. I kneaded the back of my neck, but when I caught her smirking while she chewed, I stopped and asked, "What are you today, Clara?"

"Tris doesn't have any other clothes apart from the ones she's got on, so I'm going to take her to get some clothes of her own." Clara replied.

"Do you need money?" I asked. Clara nodded sheepishly and I grabbed my wallet from the coffee table, pulling out a fifty dollar note and handing it to her. "Will this do?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

I gave her a small smile and nodded as she walked out, and I twisted my arm behind my back, kneading my lower back with two fingers.


	10. Chapter 9

After Tris and Clara left, I sat on the couch, trying to ignore the numbing pain running up my back. Then I eventually made myself move, getting up and walking into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of water and grabbed a Panadol, popping the pill into my mouth and then washing it down with the water. I sighed heavily as the medicine kicked in, soothing my sore, aching muscles, kneading out the dull pain until it was completely gone, all traces of the pain that spending a night on the couch had caused.

I sighed an raked a hand through my hair quickly as I walked upstairs to my room, where the covers on my bed were turned back, as if Tris had left in a hurry. I smiled, guessing that the whole 'Tris needs clothes' thing was Clara's idea, something to get her out of the house.

I walked over to the bed and flipped the covers back towards the bedhead, watching as they settled against the mattress. As I turned away from the bed, grabbing the first set of clothes that I could find – jeans and a dark blue, almost black shirt – I found myself recalling the night that Tris told me that she was pregnant with Clara. Although I hadn't thought about that night for years, I'd forever remembered it as one of three nights that changed my life. The first was the night I'd taken Tris into my fear landscape with me, the second being the for mentioned evening in which Tris showed up at my bedroom at some ridiculous hour and told me she was pregnant with my child, and the final being the night we returned to what was left of the Bureau after Tris set off the memory serum, only to find the Tris had died and all I had left of her was a traitor of a brother who I could barely bring myself to look at, and a little baby girl with Tris' eyes.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, combing my fingers through my hair absent-mindedly, I realised that I had another night to add to that list. Last night, once again, had changed my life. Tris returning the way that she had, so abruptly and suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, had changed the dynamic of life in Chicago once again, and with her return so closely linked to Marcus', I knew that something was coming. I didn't doubt Tris' intentions for a second, but I knew that Marcus being here at the same time was no coincidence. It had been a very long time since I'd believed in coincidences.

* * *

Tris and Clara walked back through the front door no less than an hour and a half later, their hands full of bags. Clara took Tris' bags from her and bounded up the stairs with them, the bags practically falling from her hands. I wondered if maybe Clara had grown an extra finger on each hand in the past hour or so – I couldn't see how it was humanly possible to hold that many bags.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, turning to look at Tris. "How much _did _you two buy?"

Tris laughed, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned against the kitchen table. "Don't ask, Tobias. Just . . . don't ask."

I smiled, shaking my head. "I figured you'd be gone longer than that."

Tris nodded, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "We would have been out longer than this, if . . ." she took a deep breath, her eyes peeking at me through the blanket of blonde hair that had fallen across her eyes. "If I'd gone to see Caleb. But, I . . . I figured you wouldn't want Clara around to see that."

I nodded, leaning on the counter towards her. Even if she didn't know it, Tris' maternal instinct was switched on, especially when it came to Clara. It might have been just wishful thinking on my part, but I was sure that Tris being unwilling to have Clara around while she reunited with Caleb was just as much her own unwillingness as knowing that I wouldn't want Clara there.

"Do you want me to take you?" I asked.

Tris stared at me for a moment, as if that was the last thing she expected me to say. Then, she said, "You don't have to. I can walk."

"Do you have any idea where he lives?" I asked, smiling in amusement.

Tris shook her head, ducking her head as she mumbled, "I would have figured it out."

"I'm sure you would've," I told her, straightening up. "I'll go tell Clara that we're going and then we'll go, alright?"

"Okay," Tris said. "How's your back?"

I shrugged. "Okay. I took some stuff for it, so it's alright."

Tris smiled. "I can take the couch again, if you want."

"Nonsense." I told her, before I bounded up the stairs, walking down the hallway and into Clara's room. Clara was sitting on her bed, her nose buried in a book, and I knocked on the door four times, four solid raps of my knuckles against the doorframe, to which Clara looked up.

"Tris and I are going out for a bit. Will you be alright here on your own?"

Clara nodded. "I'm sixteen. I'll be fine, Dad. Where are you going?"

I sighed. "Tris wants to go see Caleb. She hasn't had a chance to see him yet."

Clara nodded again, but then her brow furrowed, a crease forming between her eyebrows as they pulled together. "Wait. How does she know Uncle Caleb?"

For a split second, I found myself caught between the decision on whether or not to tell her. "I'll tell you later, Clara. It's not important right now."

Clara nodded. "Dad, if this Marcus guy shows up – "

"You call me straight away, Clara." I told her, moving towards the bed. "You call me and we'll be home as soon as possible, alright? But I don't think he'll show up here just yet."

Clara nodded, and I dropped a kiss down on her forehead. "I love you. I'll see you later."

Clara nodded, mumbling a reply after me as I walked out, the hundred possible versions of Tris' reunion with Caleb all running through my head at the same time.


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Thank you for all your lovely reviews - I'm glad you're enjoying this story. Just quickly - I recall someone asked how old Tris and Tobias are in this story. If my maths is half decent (I hope that it is, I'm horrible at maths), Tobias is 34, which makes Tris 32. **

* * *

Tris was silent as she sat in the passenger side of my truck, her cheek resting in her palm as she stared out the window. She appeared to be almost studying the scenery that we passed, although most of it was simply buildings that had slowly been repaired over the past sixteen years since the abolishment of the factions. I wondered if she was studying how the city had changed since she'd been here.

I cleared my throat. "Are you alright?"

Tris started, lifting her head and turning to look at me. "What? Yeah, I'm fine."

I raised one eyebrow, but I didn't comment as I changed gears on the truck, going from second to third. I could feel Tris' eyes on the side of my face, watching me. I noticed that both she and Clara had the same way of staring at you – you could _feel _their eyes, feel their gaze, as if it was burning two holes into your skin at the point they were staring at. In the past, I'd felt uncomfortable when Clara watched me like that, because she only ever did it when she wanted to know about Tris and her eyes, so much like Tris', combined with the knowledge that I refused to surrender had always made me uncomfortable enough to leave the room on more occasions than I'd like to admit. Tris, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. When she looked at me like that, her stormy blue eyes watching me intently, it felt like she was doing what was humanly impossible – like she could see right into my very soul, simply probing for the information she wanted. I assumed that the name of Clara's mother was at the top of the list of things she wanted to know. I'd promised last night that I'd tell Tris that she was Clara's mother if she asked, but only if she asked. It wasn't something else I wanted to dump on her – she had enough to deal without the added pressure of suddenly finding out she had a child she'd never known about. As for Clara, that was something I still needed to figure out. My daughter was moody and difficult at best – I wouldn't be surprised if she decided not to talk to me for a few days at best when she found out that I'd lied to her about who Tris was.

"This place has changed so much," Tris said quietly, looking away from me and turning to look out the window.

I made a soft murmur of agreement, shifting down a gear as I slowed the truck and I pulled the truck to the curb outside Caleb's apartment. As I switched the truck off and pocketed my keys, I saw Tris lean forward in peripheral vision, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face, although it did nothing to conceal the sound of her heavy breathing.

"Hey, are you alright?" I asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder. Tris sat back and nodded silently, giving me as reassuring a smile as she could muster before she opened the door and slipped out of the truck. I watched her as she closed the door behind her and walked around to the front of my truck. When I could see her figure in the middle of windscreen, she turned towards me and tilted her head to the side slightly as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, as if she was trying to silently ask me why I was still sitting behind the steering wheel.

Smiling, I climbed out of the truck and walked with her to Caleb's front door, where I rang the doorbell. I noticed that Tris was standing right behind me, as if she was trying to hide from Caleb, as the door opened. Or maybe she just wanted to see Caleb before he saw her. I couldn't decide between the two.

Upon seeing me, Caleb groaned into his teeth and leaned against the doorframe. He looked ill, but not quite. I realised that he'd been drinking – not enough to be passed-out drunk, but enough to feel the comforting buzz of alcohol coursing through his veins.

"What do _you _want?" Caleb said harshly, glaring at me. I suddenly wanted to punch him – Caleb and I had never completely made peace with each other and every time we were put in the same room as each other, the tense atmosphere crackled with animosity, although we'd done our best to keep on civil terms for Clara's sake. Over the past sixteen years that we'd spent believing that Caleb was the only surviving connection that Clara had to Tris, we'd done our best to keep our animosity towards each other to ourselves and for the most part, we'd managed to make Clara believe that it didn't exist.

Caleb sighed. "Tobias, if you don't answer the goddamn question right this second, I'm going to slam this door in your face."

I once again fought the urge to punch him. "It's not me who wants to see you." Caleb looked horrified, but he tried to peer over my shoulder to see the person that he now knew was behind me, although all he could probably see was a blonde head of hair. "Clara?"

"Try again," Tris said softly, stepping out from behind me. Caleb stopped short as his eyes went as round as saucers, gaping as he stared at Tris. I wondered if that's what I looked like when I first saw Tris, standing in my office. But Caleb's mind, clearly quicker than my own, got over the sudden shock of seeing someone who was supposed to be dead quickly, and he snapped his jaw shut with an audible _snap! _and he asked, "Tris?"

"Hi, Caleb." Tris said quietly, her mouth curving into a smile. After experiencing both mine and Christina's reactions, I guessed that Tris had gotten used to the idea that jaws were going to drop wherever she went for a while, until people got used to the idea of her being alive.

Caleb moved forward and hugged her tight, and Tris' arms flew into the air behind his back, but then she placed her hands on his shoulder blades and hugged him. I wondered what my life would have been like if I'd had a sibling – a younger brother or sister – but then I cursed myself for even thinking it. Having a sibling would have meant that there was someone else that Marcus could bring pain to and that was not something I would wish on anyone, even a hypothetical brother or sister.

When Tris stepped out of her brother's embrace, Caleb stared down at her and laughed shakily; "You have a lot of explaining to do, Beatrice."

"Don't call me that." Tris said, but she started to follow Caleb into the apartment. As she crossed the threshold, she looked over her shoulder at me. "Are you coming, Tobias?"

I shook my head. "I've got someone I need to go and see. I'll be back soon, alright?"

Tris nodded and followed Caleb, and I walked back to the truck, swinging myself easily into the driver's side. It was time I did some digging on Marcus and why he was suddenly back, after all this time.


	12. Chapter 11

I'd driven roughly halfway to the police office when I realised that I hadn't told Caleb that Tris didn't know that Clara was her daughter, or that Clara didn't know that Tris was her mother. I cursed under my breath and considered turning around as I stopped at the traffic lights, but I decided against it. Even partly drunk, Caleb wasn't stupid. He would figure out soon enough what Tris could and couldn't remember. I just hoped that he wouldn't take it upon himself to fill in the blank spots in her memory.

I forced my worries about Caleb and what choices he would make in regards to Tris' memory out of my head – I didn't have the room in my head to worry about both Tris and Marcus at the same time. Both predicaments required clear head spaces so that they could take up every bit of my attention so that I could try to find a solution to them, which was both impossible and fatally dangerous while driving my old truck. Instead of allowing myself to fret over Tris and Caleb, I allowed myself to worry about Marcus for the first time as I pulled into the police station, switching the truck off and climbing out.

"Tobias!" Zeke called as I entered, leaning over the counter. I noticed Amar leaning over the table a few metres behind the counter, but my gaze snapped back to Zeke as he clapped me on the shoulder. "It's been a while. How's Clara?"

I shrugged. "Have you spoken to Christina at all?"

Zeke looked vaguely surprised, but he shook his head and shrugged. "No. Why?"

I gestured towards the door to my right and Zeke nodded, coming around the counter and unlocking the door. I walked inside and Zeke followed, locking the door behind him. "So, what's all this about?"

I told him about Tris and Marcus and by the time I had finished, Zeke had his arms folded over his chest and his eyes narrowed slightly. He was silent for a long time until he took a deep breath and shrugged, a slow rise and drop of his shoulders. "What do you want me to do?"

"Look into why Marcus is here. It's no coincidence that he's here, now, on the exact same day as Tris."

"You think there's a connection between him and Tris coming back?" Zeke asked.

I shrugged. "I honestly don't know what I think. It'd be so much easier to work this out if Tris didn't have so many holes in her memory, but she does, so I'm trying to figure why he'd be here."

"Do you think it has something to do with Clara?"

I shrugged, looking away. "It's possible. How would he even know about her?"

"Evelyn?"

I shook my head. "She wouldn't do that. My mother adores Clara. She wouldn't jeopardise her by alerting Marcus of her existence."

"So how would he know, then?"

Again, I shrugged. "I don't know, but I need to get back to Tris. I left her with Caleb and I need to get back – who knows what he'll tell if I don't."

"Hang on." Zeke said. "So Tris doesn't know that Clara's her daughter?"

"No."

"Does Clara know that Tris is her mother?"

I made a strangled noise. "No."

"You know you're going to have to tell her, don't you?"

"Yeah." I was well aware that my answers had become as short and quick as possible and from the furrowing of his brow, I could tell that Zeke had noticed as well.

"When do you _plan _on telling her?" Zeke asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. It's not exactly something I can just come out and say, is it, Zeke?"

"She has a right – " he broke off as my phone rang and I answered it, but not before I'd checked the caller display. "Clara? Are you alright?"

Clara breaths were short and clipped, her voice low as if she was hiding form someone. "_Dad. There's a man at the house."_

My heart nearly stopped. "Describe him."

Clara then proceeded to give me an exact description of my father.

"Hold on," I told her. "I'll be there soon."

"What's wrong?" Zeke asked as I hung up the phone, unlocking the door.

"Marcus's turned up at the house and Clara's there." I said. "Are you coming?"

"Like you have to ask," Zeke replied, following me out to my truck.

* * *

When I pulled up to the house, there was no one hanging around, but I noticed that the blinds were drawn. I unlocked the house and stomped up the stairs, Zeke trailing behind me with one hand on the top of the gun holster resting on his hip.

I reached for Clara's bedroom door and found it locked. Frustrated and worried, I pounded on her bedroom door with my fist, ignoring the slight twinge of pain that shot up my arm at the harsh contact. "Clara? Clara!"

Suddenly the door was unlocked and swung open, and my daughter stood before me, her cheeks wet with tears. I hugged her tight and Clara seemed to sag against me, hugging me tighter than she had for a long time.

"What happened?" Zeke asked as Clara stepped away, leaning against the door frame.

"A man showed up here. I locked the doors and pulled all the blinds down. I don't know if he saw me or not, but he took off after five minutes."

I exchanged a glance with Zeke. "Marcus."

Zeke nodded and glanced over at Clara. "But he didn't get in?"

Clara shook her head. "It was weird. He banged on the door and looked like he was going to break in, but then he just took off."

Zeke sighed and let his hand drop from his gun. "Alright. Let me know if he turns up and starts harassing you, okay?"

Clara nodded and I gave him a pointed look, to which he nodded. "I'll look into that stuff, Tobias. I'd better get back to the station. See you both later."

He let himself out and Clara turned to me, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Where's Tris?"

"At Caleb's. Come on. We've got to go get her." I told Clara, gesturing for her to follow as I walked out of the house, locking the door once she'd followed me out.


	13. Chapter 12

When I pulled up outside Caleb's, Tris and Caleb were sitting on the front steps. Without a word, Tris got up off the steps and hauled herself into the truck, buckling herself in beside Clara. Just from looking at her, the way she had her arms folded over her chest, I knew that she knew. Even if Caleb hadn't explicitly told Tris that Clara was her daughter, he'd definitely said something to her to make her sit back and think.

"What did you say?" I asked Caleb in a low voice as I approached him.

"Nothing. She asked _me_ what happened to Clara's mother. I told her that that was a conversation she should have with you."

I sighed and pushed my fingers through my hair. "Fine. I'll see you later."

Caleb nodded and disappeared into the house as I walked back over to the truck and climbed in. I watched Caleb's front door as I turned the key in the ignition and the old truck's engine grumbled as it started, but it made no further protest as I pulled the door shut and pulled away from the curb, back towards home.

"So," Tris said after a long time, picking at a loose thread on the seat between her thigh and my own, "where'd you go?"

"I went to go see Zeke about Marcus."

"And?"

"And . . ." I glanced across at Clara, who shrugged her shoulders and piped up, almost immediately; "If you don't tell her, Dad, I will. It is – at least for the time being – Tris' house too."

I sighed. "Have I told you that I hate it when you're right?"

"Many times." Clara replied with a grin.

Tris was glancing between me and Clara in confusion. "Can someone _please _fill me in on what's going on?"

I sighed. "And Marcus showed up at the house."

Tris' eyes flew wide. "Oh. My. God." She looked between Clara and me, at a loss for words until Clara said, "He took off before Dad got there."

"Did he – "

"He didn't hurt me," Clara said, and at Tris' sceptical look, she said, "I'm fine, Tris. Really."

Tris did quite look like she believed her, but she made no further comment and simply resumed her picking of the loose thread on the seat while Clara rested her head against the window, heaved a great sigh and closed her eyes as I drove, wondering how long it would be before Tris decided to confront me about who Clara's mother was.

* * *

When I walked through the front door, this time with Clara and Tris instead of Zeke trailing behind me, Tris walked up the stairs to what was temporarily her room and slammed the door shut behind her. I figured that we wouldn't be hearing from her for at least another couple of hours.

"Do you know what her problem is?" Clara asked.

"No idea," I replied, dumping my keys on the counter. "It has been a very long time since Tris has seen Caleb, Clara."

"How does Tris even know Caleb? I mean, were they a thing – "

I couldn't help it. I laughed, to which Clara glared. She didn't particularly like being laughed at.

"No," I said, when I could make myself speak somewhat normally. "No, they weren't _a thing. _But they did love each other. Like siblings." It was as close to the truth as I could give her without pointing out who Tris really was, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her just yet, although I knew that each second I put off telling her the truth was another day I'd spend in the doghouse when she eventually found out.

"Dad? Where . . . Where's Tris been? I mean, why have I not met her before?"

"I honestly don't know, Clara. Just before you were born, Tris and Caleb had a . . . falling out and just after they made up, Tris had to go . . . away." Once again, I was all-too-aware that this was only an altered version of the truth, another story that I would have retell at a later date.

"What did they fight over?"

"Caleb betrayed Tris." I told her. "Now, what do you want for dinner?"

"Can we have chocolate-chip pancakes? I haven't had those in a really long time." Clara said.

"I'll make you a deal. You help me make them, and you can have chocolate-chip pancakes for dinner."

"Deal!" Clara cried, jumping up to gather the ingredients.

* * *

It wasn't until late that night that Tris emerged again, not including when Clara practically dragged her down the stairs by her hair in order to get her to eat. Tris clearly had thought that pancakes for dinner was a little odd, as people often did, but she had no complaints as she ate, looking at me quizzically over her food, as if she could get the answers she wanted out of me if she simply stared at me enough.

"Tobias?" She asked and I looked up as she stepped almost tentatively into the living room, the light from the television playing some show based on a book about a teenage girl who had the unusual power to see ghosts, and happened to have a century-and-a-half-old one haunting her bedroom.

I switched the television off and switched the light on, blinking against the sudden burst of light as Tris stopped about a metre away from me, her light blue eyes watching me in the same they had during dinner. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I replied.

"I was just wondering something . . . about Clara." Tris said quietly, avoiding my gaze. Then, she met my eyes and I immediately knew what she was going to ask. "Actually, it's about her mother."

I took a deep breath. "You want to know where she is."

Silently surprised, Tris nodded and asked quietly, "Where is she, Tobias? What happened to her?"

"Clara's mother," I began staring down at Tris' feet, "is standing roughly a metre away from me."

I rose my gaze to hers, watching as Tris audibly gasped, staring at me with wide eyes. For several minutes, she stared at me, floundering for a response, but then she simply turned and left, the door closing almost silently behind her.


	14. Chapter 13

It took me several hours, but I finally found Tris, and it immediately explained why I couldn't find her – she'd snuck up to the roof. Obviously, she thought that my fear of heights would keep me from looking up there. Although I did make sure that she wasn't in the house before I checked up there, I'd had full intentions of checking up there. It was, after all, her own daughter's favourite place whenever she needed to calm down.

When I crawled out onto the roof, trying my best to ignore the way the wind kept trying to pull me towards the edge, I found Tris up there – completely oblivious to the fact that the wind had turned her blonde hair into a messy tangle that somewhat resembled a birds nest – looking at the photo album.

"So this is where you disappeared to," I said as I sat down beside her. Tris started – obviously she hadn't heard me approaching – and looked up, relaxing when she saw that it was me.

"Sorry," she mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face as best as she could. "I just needed a little time to think."

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, wondering if she even heard it, or whether the sound had simply been lost in the wind.

"Yeah," Tris replied, shrugging her shoulders as she turned the page on the album. "It's just . . . it's impossible. It is _completely impossible_."

"It is possible," I said. "You have holes in your memory, Tris. Why can't this be something else you just don't remember?"

"_Because I would remember something like that_," Tris said, clearly irritated. "I would remember giving birth!"

I looked down. "You didn't."

All Tris' frustration with her memory melted away to confusion at my comment. "What?"

"Technically, you didn't give birth." I said. "From what Cara told me, by the time they got to you, you were already dead, but they could save Clara."

Tris' shoulders sagged in relief and she closed the photo album. "I thought I would remember that, too. Dying, I mean."

"That's what I don't get," I muttered, shivering against the cold air.

"What?" Tris asked.

As I stared out at the Chicago skyline, I leaned back on my hands. "I don't get it. You _were dead, _Tris. You died. Cara looked me in the eye and told me that you were dead." I swallowed thickly as Tris stared at the side of my face in shock. "They saved Clara from your body. I saw your body. _I spread your ashes. _What happened?"

Tris, at a loss for words, shook her head and stared out at the skyline. Her fingers tapped against the photo album as she muttered, over and over and over, "Serum. Serum. Serum. Serum." She was frowning at the skyline and suddenly her free hand slammed down against the roof as she cried, "Paralysis!"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"The paralysis serum that Peter used when Erudite tried to kill me." Tris said.

"Erudite tried to kill you on many occasions. You'll have to be more specific." I told her.

Tris didn't seem to get the joke and sighed. "When I went to Erudite Headquarters and they studied me _and then _they tried to kill me."

"Okay. What about the serum?"

"It made it seem as if I didn't have a pulse, Tobias. What if, whoever saved me used that on me?" Tris asked.

I considered it. It seemed to be a completely logical, educated theory.

"Cara," I said quietly, encircling my knees with my arms and interlocking my fingers. "If anyone in Chicago would know what happened, it would be Cara."

Tris nodded, and as if she could read my mind, which was telling me to go breaking down Cara's door, even at two o'clock in the morning, said, "We'll go and see her tomorrow. There's no point in doing it now."

I nodded, and after that, we were both silent for a long time. Even the wind had died down, so that the only sound in the still night air was the sounds of our breathing, until I asked softly, "Do you remember being pregnant?"

"Now that I know that I was . . . yeah, I do. It's weird. It's like I have to wait for someone to tell me that something actually happened for me to remember it. And I think not knowing that I was pregnant . . . that stopped me from remembering a lot of things." She hesitated. "Does Clara know? About me."

I shook my head. "No. I keep . . . I keep telling myself that as soon as you knew, I'd tell her, but . . . Clara's difficult. You have to pick the right time or she'll take it the wrong way and be your enemy for months. Not that it'll make much difference."

Tris looked over at me, her eyes bright in the moonlight. "Can you tell me about her? I have a daughter and I . . . I know absolutely nothing about her."

I struggled to find the right words. "Clara is . . . like I said, she's difficult. She doesn't really think before she speaks, and she tends to get in fights a lot at school."

Tris laughed. "She sounds like a Dauntless."

"She's Divergent, actually." I said.

"What?" Tris asked, turning to look at me. "How would they know that?"

"Matthew and Caleb, back when we were still rebuilding the city, they produced this test. It's kind of like the aptitude test, but it's designed to determine whether or not you're Divergent. It's compulsory for the eighth grade to take it."

"But why – "

"It's good to know who is and isn't Divergent, Tris." I pointed out.

Tris lifted one shoulder into a shrug. "So Clara's headstrong and she's Divergent."

"She also doesn't like me very much."

Tris laughed, but then stopped when she realised that I wasn't. "You're joking. She _has _to love you, Tobias. You're her father."

"You're her mother and she doesn't love you," I said.

"Yes, but I haven't lived with her, clothed her, fed her and protected her for the past sixteen years," Tris pointed out.

"I also can't get it through my head that she isn't a little girl who needs protecting anymore and that she's old enough to make her own decisions," I shot back.

"If she really felt that way, she wouldn't have called you when Marcus showed up here," Tris said calmly.

I had no clue what I was supposed to say to that.


	15. Chapter 14

"Cara!" I yelled, banging on her front door. "Open up! We need to talk to you!"

"God. _What, _Tobias? What could you possibly – " Cara broke off as the door swung open, revealing Cara, her hair blonde pulled up into a haphazard bun and her eyes tired as she blinked at Tris, standing at my side. Cara then leaned against the doorframe, stifling a yawn with her hand. "I wondered when you'd show up."

Tris looked up at me, her lips parting in shock, and I glanced down at her before turning my full attention on Cara. "You knew."

"Of course I knew. It was practically impossible for me not to know." Cara said.

"You knew . . . You knew she was alive and you didn't . . . you didn't tell me?" I asked. I stepped forward, but Tris placed her hand on my arm, looking up at me with hard blue eyes.

"Tris, - " I started.

"Let her explain herself," Tris said, "before we jump to conclusions. Okay?"

I took a deep breath and reluctantly nodded, stepping back. I folded my arms over my chest as Tris' hand left my skin and she turned to face Cara. She didn't look particularly impressed that Cara had known, all these years, that Tris was alive and hadn't said anything.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tris asked.

Instead of answering, Cara beckoned us inside. Tris and I followed as she led us through and into her kitchen. Tris dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table opposite to the one Cara sat down in, but I opted to lean against the counter, my hands braced against the counter behind me.

"Cara," Tris said softly, after a moment of silence. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Cara looked from Tris to me and back again, as if she was unsure of whether she should answer or not. Apparently, she decided that not answering was safest, because she said nothing.

"Sixteen years," I said, unable to keep my anger and frustration out of my voice. "My daughter went without a mother for sixteen years. She could have grown up knowing her mother, Cara! She – "

"No, she couldn't have!" Cara snapped, her eyes flashing with ire. "She couldn't have, because the serum was developed specifically; Tris could only regain her memories after a certain space of time. I didn't know how long that time was. My part in the entire thing was just to make sure you all believed that she was dead, and that none of it harmed Clara."

I glanced over at Tris, who was sitting back in her chair, stunned. I glanced back at Cara, who looked like she might scream out in frustration. Or burst into tears. "Wait. _Your part? _So it went further than you?"

Cara nodded. "All I know is that David wouldn't have rested until Tris was dead, once she got into that weapons lab."

"Or at least he _thought _I was dead," Tris said, to which Cara nodded.

"Someone, I don't know who," she said, noticing my raised eyebrows.

"Typical," I muttered, scoffing, but I allowed her to continue, after she'd rolled her eyes.

"Someone _knew_ that Tris needed to disappear, at least for a little while, so they told us what to do. They told us to swap the bullets in David's gun for these darts that we filled paralysis serum."

"Who was _us?_" I asked.

"Me and Matthew," Cara replied. "I was in charge of making sure that Tris and Clara were alright."

"Alright?" I echoed, folding my arms over my chest.

"The paralysis serum that we used on Tris, that day at the Bureau . . . that one was different from the one that Peter used to get Tris out of Erudite." Cara explained. "This paralysis serum also doubled as an anaesthetic."

"So that you could deliver Clara," Tris said, sitting back in her chair, realisation filling her features.

Cara nodded as I clenched my jaw and looked away, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. I couldn't believe that people I had trusted for as long as Clara had been alive had banded together to make sure that my daughter grew up without a mother.

"Tobias, you don't understand," Cara started.

"No, I understand just fine," I said angrily, looking back at her. "The lot of you just decided that – "

"We couldn't make you believe that Clara had died too," Cara said calmly, seemingly untouched by my anger. "We couldn't have just told you that both Tris and Clara had died. You'd never have believed it. And besides, what would have been better? Clara growing with a father who remembered her mother, or growing up with a mother who didn't even remember falling pregnant, let alone who the father was?"

"She's got a point, Tobias." Tris admitted quietly.

I took a deep breath. "You could have told me. Given me some warning before she turned up out of the blue."

Cara nodded miserably. "I know. I wanted to. Why do you think I've never been able to spend much time around Clara? Because every time I looked at her, I was reminded of the fact that she was growing up without a mother, who was perfectly alive and well, although she had a ridiculous amount of holes in her memory."

After that, we were all silent for a long time until I said, "I saw her body."

"Paralysis serum. It knocked her out for a few days, gave her the illusion of actually being dead."

"What about my ashes?" Tris asked. "They spread my ashes, Cara."

Cara lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "We just burned a pile of clothes."

I thought back to the first time I'd held Clara, back in the Bureau. Her body had felt so tiny in my arms that I'd been terrified that I'd crush her, and my doubts about whether I could really raise a child on my own mingled with my grief and then suddenly I was sitting on the floor in the Bureau with Clara nestled in my arms as I cried.

Almost as if she could read my train of thought, Cara asked, "Have you told Clara yet?"

I considered throwing her a sarcastic comment, but I just leaned back against the counter again and shook my head, blocking out Cara comment of, "You should probably do that soon," because I knew that I should have told Clara already who Tris was. I just didn't know how I was supposed to tell her something like that.


	16. Chapter 15

After we left Cara's I drove home, knowing full well what I had to do. I'd already put it off too long. Clara deserved to know that Tris was her mother, no matter how much she was going to hate me for keeping it from her.

"Are you alright?" Tris asked finally, her voice small and quiet in comparison to the noise that the truck's engine made.

I glanced quickly across at her before I looked back at the road, my hand tightening on gearstick as I changed gears. "I'm fine. You would think I wouldn't be, but I am."

"Well, you did just find out that some of your friends are the reason you have holes in your memory," I said. "Why you can't even remember your own daughter – " I broke off when Tris placed her hand over mine on the gearstick, her slim fingers encircling my own and squeezing.

"Are you going to tell Clara?" Tris asked, taking her hand away from mine. Almost immediately, I missed the touch, missed how her skin felt against my own.

"Yeah," I said, and Tris' eyebrows went up, clearly surprised. "Did Cara get to you with that comment – "

I shook my head. "It wasn't Cara. I was all of it – you, Christina, Caleb, Cara, Zeke. One of the first questions anyone seems to ask, apart from 'how is Tris alive?' is 'Have you told Clara yet?' She has a right to know, Tris."

Tris gave me a small smile. "I know she does. Do you want to me to . . .?"

She trailed off and I shook my head. "Just let me do it. If you're even in the room, she'll probably think it's some enormous joke."

Tris looked like she had something else to say about it, but she remained silent as I pulled the truck into the driveway and switched it off, putting the keys in my pocket as I climbed out.

"Are you going to tell her now?" Tris asked as she shut the door behind her, following me up the path to the front door.

"May as well, before I can talk myself out of it," I replied, opening the door and holding it open for her.

"Good luck," Tris said, grabbing an apple off the counter and biting into it. I gave her a small smile of thanks before I started up the staircase to Clara's room. Standing in the doorway, I watched as she pulled her arm back, and then, with a single flick of her wrist, sent a dart flying across the room, the point slamming straight into the middle of the dartboard, through a photo of Ryan. Through his eye, to be exact.

Clara glared at the photo and muttered darkly, "Dumb shit."

"Watch your language," I said. "What's with you?"

"Ryan. _Always _Ryan," Clara replied, flinging another dart at the dartboard. This one sank into the photo's cheek.

"Do want to talk about it?"

"No," Clara said sharply, letting another dart fly. I heard the thump of its sharp point burying itself into the cork of the dartboard, but I didn't look to see where on Ryan's face it had struck. Knowing Clara, it was probably in between his eyebrows. If I was being honest, the fact that she was upset to the point of throwing darts made me nervous. I nearly talked myself out of telling Clara about Tris and turned around, but I made myself stay. I figured that it would be better to make an already bad mood worse by telling her that Tris was her mother, than to ruin a good mood.

"Well, can we talk about something else then?" I asked.

Clara looked up at me, some of the anger leaving her expression, curiosity replacing it. "What about?"

"Tris, actually," I said, sitting on the end of her bed. I knew, to some extent, what her reaction would be. She would throw me out of her room. I knew that much.

"Okay," Clara said, leaning against the wall and eyeing me curiously. She seemed to know that wherever this was going, it was a serious matter. "What about her?"

"What do you think of her?" I asked quietly.

Clara smirked, as if she expected me to ask if she'd mind if I started dating Tris. "She's cool. I like her."

"That's good," I said, and stopped. The whole drive back, I'd been forcing myself to work up the nerve to tell Clara, but I hadn't given much thought to how I was going to say it. That was the whole point behind hiding the truth from the Clara, because I didn't know how I was supposed to tell her.

The smirk dropped from Clara's mouth and she suddenly looked worried, reaching out and squeezing my hand tightly. "Dad, is she alright?"

"Tris is fine," I assured her, running a hand through my hair. "Clara, Tris' full name is Beatrice Prior."

Clara sat back against the wall, her blue eyes wide. "That . . . that's not possible. My mother is _dead_. You told me she was dead!"

"I thought she was," I replied. "Clara, I swear to you, I thought that she was. I had no idea – "

"Get out," Clara said quietly, cutting me off. When I didn't move, she kicked out, slamming the soles of her feet into the side of my thigh as she shouted, "Get out get out get out! Just go! Get out!"

Without a word, I got up and walked out of the room, throwing Clara a look over my shoulder. Her hard, glowering blue eyes glared back at me before I turned. I was tempted to go back into the kitchen with Tris, but all of a sudden a wave of fatigue had washed over me, triggered by a release of stress and the lack of sleep from the night before.

Slowly, I walked up to my own room. Since Tris had come back, I'd only been in there for a grand total of ten minutes. Now, Tris' clothes were folded neatly on top of my dresser. Apart from that, nothing seemed to have changed.

Groaning softly, I rolled onto the bed and fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 16

_I take the vial of memory serum from my pocket. I know that one vial will erase most of my life, but it will target memories, not facts. I will still know how to write, how to speak, how to put together a computer, because that data was stored in a different part of my brain. I will still be able to care for my still unnamed daughter, but I will also be able to look at her without feeling the crippling grief that will inevitably come with looking at my daughter and seeing her mother._

_But I will forget that she is my daughter._

_The experiment is over. Johanna successfully negotiated with the government – David's superiors – to allow the former faction members to stay in the city, provided they are self-sufficient, submit to the government's authorities, and allow outsiders to come in and join them, making Chicago just another metropolitan area, like Milwaukee. The Bureau, once in charge of the experiment, will now keep order in Chicago's city limits._

_It will be the only metropolitan area governed by people who don't believe in genetic damage. A kind of paradise. Matthew told me he hopes people from the fringe will trickle in to fill all the empty spaces, and find a life more prosperous than the one they left._

_All that I want is to become someone new. In this case, Tobias Johnson, son of Evelyn Johnson. Tobias Johnson may have lived a dull and empty life, he is at least a whole person, not this fragment of a person that I am, too damaged by pain to become anything useful. _

"_Matthew told me you stole some of the memory serum and a truck," says a voice at the end of the hallway. Christina's. "I have to say, I didn't really believe him."_

_Even her voice sounds like it is travelling through water to reach my ears, and it takes me a few seconds to make sense of what she says. When I do, I look at her and say, "Then why did you come, if you didn't believe him?"_

"_Just in case," she says, striding toward me. "Plus, I wanted to see the city one last time before it changes. Give me that vial, Tobias."_

"_No." I fold my fingers over it to protect it from her. "This is my decision, not yours."_

_Her dark eyes widen, and her face is radiant with sunlight. It makes every strand of her thick, dark hair gleam orange like it's on fire._

"_This is _not _your decision," she says. "This is the decision of a coward, and you're a lot of things, Four, but not a coward. Never."_

"_Maybe I am now," I answer passively. "Things have changed. I'm all right with it."_

"_No, you're not."_

_I feel so exhausted all I can do is roll my eyes._

"_What about your daughter?" Christina asks, and this makes me stop and look at her quizzically. "Don't become someone she would be ashamed of, Tobias. Someone she would be ashamed to have as her father. You can't become a person Tris would hate," Christina continues, and Tris' name cuts through the muffle, hard and sharp like a knife that slices through my chest and leaves me breathless. "And she would have hated this."_

_Anger stampedes through me, hot and lively._

"_Shut up!" I yell. "Shut up! You don't know what she would hate; you didn't know her, you – "_

"_I know enough!" she snaps. "I know she wouldn't want you to erase her from your memory like she didn't even matter you! Like your _daughter_ doesn't even matter!"_

_I lunge toward her, pinning her shoulder to the wall, and lean closer to her face._

"_If you _dare_ suggest that again," I say, "I'll – "_

"_You'll what?" Christina shoves me back, hard. "Hurt me? You know, there's a word for big, strong men who attack women, and it's _coward."

_I step back and slump against the wall, letting my body collapse into it. _

"_I'm sorry," I say. _

"_I know," she answers. "I know how it feels to want to forget everything. I also know how it feels for someone you love to get killed for no reason, and to want to trade all your memories of them for just a moment's peace."_

_She wraps her hand around mine, which is wrapped around the vial._

"_I didn't know Will long," she says, "but he changed my life. He changed _me. _And I know Tris changed you even more. The person you became with her is worth being. If you swallow that serum, you'll never be able to find your way back to him."_

_The tears come again, like when I saw Tris' body, and this time, pain comes with them. I clutch the vial to my chest, desperate for the relief it offers. Tris is gone, and crying feels so useless, so stupid, but it's all I can do. Christina puts her arms around me and holds me upright and doesn't say a word for a long time. Appearing in front of me is another choice, brighter and stronger than the ones I gave myself._

_Eventually I pull away from Christina and open my eyes, offering the vial to her._

"_Clara," I say, as Christina's hand closes around the vial and she pockets it._

"_Clara?" She asks, her brow furrowing._

"_Clara," I say firmly. "Her name. Is Clara."_

_Christina smiles, and it's a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "It's pretty."_

I woke to someone shaking me and saying my name, and when I opened my eyes, I found Tris leaning over me, the ends of her hair brushing against my chest. When she saw that my eyes were open, Tris' mouth curved into a smile. "You're awake."

"I'm awake," I said, still half-asleep. "Wha – "

"Phone for you," Tris replied, handing me the house phone. I thanked her and pressed it against my ear, stifling a yawn. "Hello?"

"_Tobias." _It was Zeke. _"Are you so extraordinarily busy that you can't come down to the station?"_

"No. Why?"

"_I did some digging on Marcus. What I found was . . . interesting. How fast can you make it down here?"_

Suddenly wide awake, I sat up. "Give me half an hour and we'll be down there."

I heard him mutter something that sounded like 'bye' as I got up, running a hand through my hair, which was starting to get long. Tris gave me a puzzled look and I said quickly, "Zeke found some stuff on Marcus. Are you coming?"

Tris simply nodded and followed me out of the room.


	18. Chapter 17

"Clara," I said, "Tris and I have to go out for a while and I can't leave you here. Do you want to go to Christina's or to your Grandmother's?"

"Why not?" Clara snapped, her eyes flashing as she turned to look at me. "You were perfectly fine with me staying here on my own yesterday!"

"That was _before _Marcus showed up here. Now, answer the goddamn question," I said, folding my arms over my chest.

"I'll go to Christina's," Clara said darkly, getting to her feet and pushing her feet into shoes. "I'll walk."

"No, you won't." I said. "I'll drive you."

"I'm not a kid!" Clara protested. "I can walk myself – "

"Right now you're acting like one. Let's go," I said, gesturing behind me. Clara glared, but then she pushed past both me and Tris, stomping down the hallway, down the stairs and out to the truck. I sighed and leaned against the wall as I heard Clara slam the truck's door after her, leaning my head against the doorframe and closing my eyes.

"She'll come around, Tobias," Tris said quietly, her hand small on my shoulder. "You just have to give her time."

I opened my eyes, tilting my head back so that I could see her. Her blonde hair was framing her face and even as I watched, my fingers itching to push her hair out of her face, she reached up to push it away herself, looking down as I said, "Yeah, but how much time will she need?"

Tris looked up at me, one side of her lips curving into a smile as she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I can't tell the future, Tobias."

"Of course not," I replied, turning away from her and walking down the hallway. "Because that would be ridiculous."

I heard Tris laugh softly and say something behind me, but I wasn't really paying attention. My mind was preoccupied with wondering what Zeke had found in regards to Marcus that he felt that he couldn't say it over the phone.

"Tobias," Zeke said, looking up. "I'm glad you're . . . Tris. I heard you were back."

"Hi, Zeke," Tris said quietly. Without a word, Zeke walked around the counter that separated him from us and hugged her quickly, before he led us into the next room. I heard him mutter something like, "Glad you're not dead, Prior," as he walked over to the table in the middle of the room, dropping a file onto it.

"What's this?" I asked, opening it and flicking through the papers inside, my eyes simply brushing over the few words they managed to catch before they disappeared; _possession. Arrest. Assault._

"Everything I could find on Marcus Eaton," Zeke replied, leaning on the table with his palms braced against it. "What I found was . . . interesting."

"Interesting?" Tris asked, peering over my shoulder.

"Yeah. Marcus has been arrested eight times since he left Chicago."

"_Eight _times?" Tris asked, as I dropped the file on the table and she moved towards it, looking through it more thoroughly than I had. "What for?"

"Six counts of assault, one count of suspected murder, and one count of possession of memory serum," Zeke replied. I found the first seven arrest charges mildly interesting, but it's the last one that really grabs my attention. One of the first things Johanna did when she was in power, after the abolishment of the Factions, was to make the possession of memory serums illegal, and quickly, that became a nation-wide law.

"How long ago was he arrested for possession of a memory serum?" Tris asked, obviously thinking along the same lines as me.

"About a week after the law was made nation-wide," Zeke replied. I glanced at Tris and she caught my eye.

"From the looks of it, it was an odd serum, too," Zeke said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, it was like a paralysis serum mixed with a memory serum. I'd love to know what _Marcus _was doing with something like _that,_" Zeke said. "What did he want with it, to forget all the things he's done?"

"Maybe," I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. I noticed that Tris was staring at the file, almost glowering at it, as if she was willing the file to grow and mouth and tongue and start telling her the answers that she – no, we – the answers we both sought. "Who did he assault? Whose murder was he charged with?"

Zeke listed off a bunch of names that meant nothing to me for the assault, but the name that came out of his mouth is the last name I expected to hear.

"Wait, David's dead?" I asked, glancing between Tris and Zeke. Clearly, Tris remembered who David was – her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted slightly.

Zeke nodded, studying our expressions for a moment before he asked, "What is it?"

"Not important right now," I said. I touched Tris' shoulder and she snapped out of her reverie, stepping away from the table and back towards the door.

"Can you _please_ – "

"Look," I said, "Marcus _may _be the reason that we all thought that Tris was dead for sixteen years. All right?"

Zeke looked like he wanted to pull out his badge and gun and start interrogating us both for answer, but reluctantly agreed and let us go. Tris and I practically bolted out the door and out to the car, almost running over Amar as he walked into the station.

"Get in," I told Tris, easily swinging myself into the truck and starting the engine. I heard Tris' seatbelt click as I pulled out of the carpark and onto the road, and I felt her eyes on the side of my face as she asked, "So who are we going to see now? You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The look that says you're onto something."

I grinned across at her. "We're going to see my mother. She might know something."

I could see Tris biting back a groan. "And _why _are we going to see _Evelyn, _of all people?"

"Because she was married to him," I said. "If anyone's going to know why he's here, now, of all times, it's going to be her."


	19. Chapter 18

"I really hate it when you're right," Tris said, and I grinned.

"I can drop you back home, if you want." I offered.

Tris shook her head, gripping the dashboard as I swung the truck around a tight corner a little too sharply, her body slamming against the door with a loud thump. "No. As much as I dislike the woman, I want to hear what she has to say."

"You disliked her before," I said. "It doesn't mean you'll dislike her now."

"I'll decide that for myself," Tris replied as I pulled up outside my mother's house, killing the engine and pocketing the keys as we climbed out. Evelyn walked out of the house as we climbed the steps, smiling as she saw me, but the expression froze her face as she saw Tris. "Beatrice . . ."

"Tris," Tris corrected.

Evelyn's regained her composure and raised her eyebrows, but she beckoned us inside. "So how long has she been back?"

"A few days," Tris replied, as we both slid into chairs at my mother's old and worn kitchen table.

"Did you know?" I asked. "That she was alive?"

"No," Evelyn said, but I noticed that she was conveniently turned away from me as she said it, poring three cups of tea.

"Look at me," I said, and she did, reluctantly. I leaned forward in my seat. "_Did you know that she alive?"_

She sighed and I knew what the answer was, even before she said it, but she never got a chance to say it, because Tris jumped in. "That's not what we're here for."

Evelyn sat down, placing a cup of tea in front of Tris and I both before she blew into the one she'd placed in front of herself. "What are you here for?"

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. "Were you aware that Marcus has returned?"

My mother looked up sharply, flicking her hair, streaked with grey, out of her eyes. "He's _what?"_

"After sixteen years, the beast has returned," I muttered, and Evelyn's shoulders slumped as she sat back in her own chair, almost in defeat.

"Do you know why he's here?" I asked.

Evelyn shook her head. "He hasn't contacted me, although I doubt that he would. Have you seen him?"

"Well, he was never told about Clara, as far as I can tell, but yet he showed up at the house yesterday when only she was there. He's obviously been keeping tabs on me somehow, or he wouldn't know about her at all." I said.

"He did see her while she was pregnant," Evelyn said.

"She was never big enough for him to be able to tell that she was pregnant, in the times that he saw her," I said. "And he'd left Chicago by the time that I'd returned with Clara. There was no _way _he could know, unless he was keeping tabs on me."

"You are his son too, Tobias." Evelyn said. She leaned over and took my hand, squeezing tightly. I turned my hand over and squeezed back, looking across at Tris.

* * *

When we climbed back into the truck, I cursed and hit the steering wheel, glaring at it as the honk that the horn had made faded in my ears.

"Tobias – " Tris started.

"She knew," I muttered darkly. "She knew about you. IS THERE ANYONE IN THE _WHOLE _OF CHICAGO WHO DID NOT KNOW?"

"Tobias," Tris hissed softly under her breath. "Let's just go home."

I slid the key in the ignition and started the car, gliding it easily onto the road. We were stopped by traffic lights when my phone rang and I answered it, wedging it between my ear and my shoulder so that I could drive and talk at the same time. "Hello? Oh, hey, Chris."

"_Tobias, your daughter's being difficult," _Christina said, and I bit back a groan.

"Alright, I'll be there in five to pick her up."

"_That's the issue," _Christina replied. _"She's sworn up and down a million times over that she's not coming home."_

I resisted the urge to assault the steering wheel again. "Alright. Is it any trouble for her to stay with you tonight? I am really too tired to deal with this."

"_It's fine. I'll take her to school too."_

"Thank you. And just be on the lookout for Marcus. He showed up at the house yesterday."

"_Will do. Bye."_ Then she hung up, and I dropped the phone on the seat between me and Tris, sighing as I turned a corner. At Tris' questioning look, I said, "Clara's staying with Chris tonight. She's refusing to come home."

"Oh," Tris said. She looked like she wanted to say something more about Clara, but instead she said, "You know, your mother's a lot harder to hate when she's not a raging bitch."

I laughed. "I figured you would say something like that."

Evelyn had known nothing of importance as to why Marcus might be here, or who had orchestrated faking Tris' death. I had a feeling that both were intertwined.

"Do you really think that Marcus is the one who planned my '_death'?" _Tris asked, and I shrugged.

"It does seem like the logical explanation. You go missing due to a faked death with paralysis serum and not too long after, he's arrested for possession of memory serum. It seems to me that all arrows are pointing towards Marcus." I said.

"There's just one question that I have," Tris said, and I looked at her expectantly, my eyebrows raised.

"Why?" Tris said, as if it was what she assumed I should be thinking. "Why would he could through all that trouble to save me? Why didn't he just let me die, when there were a hundred other people that he could have saved?"

I glanced quickly between her and the road as we lapsed into an almost stunned silence. The _why _of the whole thing had never really occurred to me; ever since Tris had showed up, I'd been so focused on the _how _and _who _– how was she here? How was she alive? Who knew she was alive? How long had they known?

But now, as I contemplated what Tris had said, _Why _continued to roll around inside my head, over and over, until it felt like I had a migraine coming on.


	20. Chapter 19

As I walked into the house, I dropped my keys onto the bench and then walked through into the living room, throwing myself onto the couch. I felt my head connect with the armrest, but I ignored the pain, rolling over onto my back as Tris entered the room. I watched her, trying to read her expression, as she sat down on the floor, her back against the wall and her side pressed against the side of the couch. I watched her through my peripheral vision, studying the way the fading sunlight through the window caught her hair and eyes, illuminating them. Fondly, I remembered a morning sixteen years ago, when I had watched the morning light hit Tris' skin, watched the sunlight hit the birds on her collarbone.

I'd been so wrapped up in my own thoughts, in my own reminiscing of the past, that I didn't notice Tris reaching out until her fingers were sliding through mine, squeezing my hand tightly. Shocked, I turned to look at her as she asked softly, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I muttered, squeezing her hand and looking up at the ceiling. "My girlfriend has just come back from the dead. All my friends have turned out to be part of a whole conspiracy to keep the fact that she was alive hidden from me. It looks like my own father was the grand mastermind of said conspiracy, and my daughter hates me. So, yeah, I'm fine."

Tris sighed softly at my sarcasm, brushing her thumb back and forth across the back of my hand until she said softly, "Clara will come around, Tobias. She can't hate you forever."

"She can and she will," I muttered, and Tris laughed softly, leaning over to rest her forehead against my shoulder. I looked over at her, mesmerised, as I watched the way laughter lit her face up, making her eyes almost twinkle in the fading light still filtering through the window.

Smiling gently, Tris looked up at me, brushing her blonde hair out of her eyes with one hand. She seemed to take in my expression for a very long time before she sighed, looking down at our intertwined fingers. She watched her own thumb brush across my skin before she said quietly, so softly that I wasn't quite sure that it was meant for my ears; "You know how much I wish that I could remember, Tobias. That I could tell you whether or not it was Marcus who organised this whole . . . _thing."_

"And you still don't remember anything else?"

Tris lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I just know that it was a man. I can't even remember anything about him. Can you even _imagine _how frustrating that is? I can _feel _it, feel that memory, just beyond my reach and I can't . . ." she broke off, shaking her head and looking away.

"Hey," I said, reaching over and taking her chin in my hand. Tris blinked rapidly, as if she was blinking away tears of frustration, and then lifted her head to look at me as I said quietly, "It's fine, Tris. It'll come back to you. Eventually."

"But I want to remember _now_," Tris whined, and I laughed, leaning my head back against the armrest as I brushed my thumb across her hand. Tris squeezed my fingers and I squeezed back, with the same amount of pressure.

"I'm sick of not being able to remember," Tris said softly, sitting back. "I want to remember you. I want to remember Will and Christina, and Uriah and Zeke and Marlene and Shauna and Marcus and Caleb and Evelyn and my parents."

"But you do remember us," I said softly. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be here."

"I know that. But I don't remember being pregnant and _I want to_."

"I thought you said that you did," I said, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Tris shrugged. "Matter of interpretation. I remember that I _was _pregnant, I just don't remember _being _pregnant."

I nodded. "So you remember certain facts, but not actual memories themselves?"

Tris nodded, looking down. She released my hand and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, leaning her head back against the wall. "I just want to remember. Now that I know, I can _see _that Clara's my daughter; I can see myself in her, I can see what she got from me, what she got from you, but I feel guilty that I didn't know, immediately, who she was. I feel like I failed her."

"Hey, you've never failed her," I told her, grasping her chin again to make her look at me. "If anyone's ever failed her, I did. Should have made sure that you were safe, I should have followed up to make sure that you were really _dead. _I should have – " I broke off and I turned my head, hiding my face in the headrest. I heard Tris say my name softly and then I felt her grasp my arm, her hair brushing against my skin softly as she leaned towards me. Almost reluctantly, I twisted my head to face her, rolling onto my back so that I could see her. Tris was smiling gently as she took my hand again, squeezing so hard that her knuckles turned white. "Tobias, you never failed Clara. You were the best father you could be. You always did your best for her."

"How do know that?" I asked quietly, reaching up with my free hand to cup the side of her face. Tris smiled, closing her eyes briefly and turning her head into my palm.

When she opened her eyes, I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone as she said softly, "I can see it. After only a few days, I can see it."

Before I could think up an answer, she leaned over and pressed her mouth to mine, placing her hand that wasn't intertwined with mine on my arm. Her mouth was soft and warm and as we kissed, I felt her slid her hand up my arm so that her palm rested on the side of my neck. When she drew away, she climbed onto the couch beside me, curling her body to the side of mine. I turned my head and pressed my forehead against hers, smiling softly. We lay there for a long time, both of us staring at our intertwined hands, until Tris said softly, "You know, your bed's pretty big. We'd both fit in there pretty easily."

I'd had my eyes closed at that point, but then I opened my eyes, watching her as my mouth spread into a grin. I leaned across to kiss her, and then I rose.


	21. Chapter 20

Tris was still fast asleep when I woke up the next morning, her face pressed into my shoulder and one of her legs tangled with mine. I smiled across at her, but the expression froze on my face when I noticed the time on the alarm clock, biting back a groan. I really did not want to get up.

Reluctantly, I untangled myself from Tris and rolled out of bed. Tris stirred, mumbling something incoherent under her breath, but then rolled over onto her stomach and went back to sleep. I smiled down at her, catching a quick glimpse of the Abnegation symbol tattoo on her shoulder before I turned away, finding some pants and pulling them on. As I found a shirt and shrugged it on, quickly buttoning it up, I heard movement behind me and I watched through the mirror as Tris rolled over and sat up, blinking.

"Do you _have _to go?" Tris asked, sliding forward to sit on the end of the bed, her hands braced against the mattress.

I smiled into the mirror at her, finding a tie and fastening it around my neck, folding the back of my shirt over it neatly. "Unfortunately. I already called in sick to go talk to Cara yesterday."

Tris sighed softly, but she didn't object further as I turned to look at her, looking across the room and failing to find my shoes. I moved to look under the bed, lifting the covers to see whether either me or Tris had kicked them underneath. I couldn't see anything, but as I rocked back on my heels, I saw Tris bolt out of the room, holding two black objects.

"Tris!" I shouted, bolting after her. I heard Tris laughing as she ran down the stairs and I followed, bounding down the stairs, taking them three at a time so that I caught her at the bottom, catching her around the waist and swinging her around and over my shoulder.

Tris shrieked with laughter and I set her down. "Give me my shoes."

Tris smiled, holding the shoes away from me. "Come and get them from me."

I darted for them, but Tris twisted away, laughing as I watched her for a moment with narrowed eyes. Tris held my gaze with a playful gaze of her own, and I feigned going to grab the shoes, but then I caught her around the waist and pulled her to me instead. Tris gasped softly, but then I was kissing her, wrapping one arm around her waist. I slowly ran my other hand up the length of her arm, carefully loosening her grip on my shoes finger by finger until she surrendered my shoes to me again, and I dropped them to the floor, cupping her face in my hands. I could feel Tris' hands on my back, her hands small and almost delicate against my shoulder blades as she pushed up on her toes to kiss me harder.

When we drew apart, Tris smiled gently, stepping back as I pushed my feet into my shoes. "Do you think Clara'll be in a better mood when she gets home?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know if I'll see her for a few days. I can't remember her being this angry at me before."

Tris smiled gently. "I'll talk to her when she comes home. She might listen to me."

I nodded and moved forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. When I pulled back, Tris turned her head to look up at me, her blue-grey searching mine as I said quietly, "I really have to go, but I'll be back later. There's something that I really need to show you."

"What is it?" Tris asked, following me to the door. I pushed it open with my foot and turned to look at her, smiling.

"It's a surprise." I said, and Tris sighed, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"I'll let you know if Clara turns up after school," Tris said.

"Or during," I muttered, my hand on the handle. At Tris' puzzled look, I explained, "She has a habit of ditching. She knows that the next time she does it, she's grounded for a month."

"You really think she'd ditch, with everything that's going on?"

I shrugged. "I think she'd do it to get back at me. But generally when she ditches, she's nowhere near stupid enough to show up here. I don't know where she'd go, then. She's smart enough to know to be afraid of Marcus."

Tris thought for a moment and then shrugged. "I'll let you know if Marcus shows up here as well."

I nodded. "I don't think he will. He's already shown up here once. But I don't know whether he knows that you're in Chicago or not, so if you can, stay out of sight, alright?"

Tris nodded in agreement, leaning back against the kitchen table and stifling a yawn with her hand. "I'll be fine. You'd better go."

I nodded and hesitated, the words _I love you _dying on my lips. I eventually turned and walked out to my truck, unlocking the door and swinging myself in, the birds that decorated Tris' collarbone dancing across my vision each time I blinked. As much as I wanted to say those three little words to her, and as happy as Tris had looked this morning, I had the feeling that Tris was feeling a lot more overwhelmed than she was letting on. She had only known for just over twenty-four hours that she had a sixteen-year-old daughter that she hadn't even known about.


	22. Chapter 21

I was silently counting the hours until I could return to Tris when my desk phone rang. Glad for something to do – I had no meetings today, just lots of paperwork – I picked up.

"_Tobias?"_

Tris. I smiled, until I noticed the edge in her voice. "Tris? What's wrong?"

"_Christina called. The school called her – Clara never turned up for school, but Christina swore up and down that Clara had left before she'd gone to work. The school said they'd tried to call you but couldn't get through."_

"We'll fine her, Tris," I assured her. "I'll call Zeke and Amar, tell them to keep an eye out for her."

I heard Tris breathe out deeply. "_Tobias, Marcus – "_

"I really don't think she's that stupid," I said, although I was trying to reassure myself as much as I was her. Clara was upset, and that equated to recklessness, when it came to her.

"_Okay," _Tris said quietly, sounding slightly calmer. _"I'll go out and look for her. I'm not scared of Marcus."_

"Even if he's the one who orchestrated your 'death'?" I asked.

"_Even if he's the one who orchestrated my death," _Tris replied. _"I'm not scared of him. But I'll be careful."_

"Okay," I said. "Stay safe, Tris." Then I hung up and dialled the police station, keeping the phone wedged between the side of my face and my shoulder.

"_And what do I owe this pleasure?" _Amar asked as he answered.

"I need a favour."

"_Course you do. Only time you ever call anymore. What do you need?"_

I ignored his comment. "Clara stayed at Christina's last night, left before Christina did, never turned up for school."

"_We'll keep a lookout for her. What'd you do, anyway?"_

"Who says I did anything?"

"_This is _Clara _we're talking about. So spit it out, kid. What'd you do?"_

I sighed, rubbing my hand down my face. "I told Clara who Tris really is. She's barely said two words to me since yesterday."

"_She'll come around."_

I shrugged, even though Amar couldn't see it. "That is what everyone keeps telling me."

It took roughly two hours, but Clara eventually was found. About half an hour after Tris' original call, I almost called work quits for the day, but Tris managed to convince me to stay put – she was already out, along with the police force and Christina.

About two hours after the original call, Tris rang me, relieved. "_Chris found her."_

"Where?" I asked, frantically. "Where is she?"

"_At – " _Tris paused, and I heard someone talking to her faintly on the other end, _"At the memorial in what used to be the Dauntless district. You may want to get here fast, Tobias."_

"Why?"

Tris sighed, sounding like she wanted to roll over and go to sleep. "_Just get here. It's better for yout o see it for yourself. Just get here."_

I skipped the rest of the day and drove straight to the memorial, where Tris was leaning against the wall, Clara was slumped against the wall at her feet, and Zeke and Christina were standing a few metres away, arms folded over their chests.

Clara looked up and something in her eyes made me storm towards her and kneel don, taking her chin in my hand. "Are you drunk?"

Clara slowly dragged her eyes from the ground to me, and I almost wished she hadn't; they were cold and dark, the furthest from the happy, alight blue they'd been when she was a child, a light that had slowly been diminishing over the past couple of years as she drew further and further away from me. "What do you care?"

I flinched and Tris opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, as if deciding it wasn't a good idea. I almost wanted to beg her to say it, because we were all silent – Christina and Zeke included. None of us had any idea what to say.

Finally, Tris said, "That was uncalled for, Clara."

Clara stood, turning to face Tris. "No, you don't get the right to say that! You turn up after _sixteen years _. . . how do I know you're really my mother? How am I supposed to know that?"

"That's enough, Clara," I said sharply, grabbing her arm. Clara glared at me but said nothing as I turned to Zeke. "Did you see a guy with her? Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, about the same age?"

"Yeah," Zeke said and Christina and I both groaned at the same time.

"What?" Tris asked, while Clara smiled slightly, knowing that she her actions were, as usual, infuriating everyone, especially me.

"That explains where she got the alcohol," I told Tris. "Her ex. Ryan." I pulled on Clara's arm and she turned to face me, eyes blazing as I said, "_Why, _Clara?"

"At least he doesn't lie and keep secrets from me!" Clara snapped.

"No, he just takes advantage of you in every way that he can," I muttered. I started to pull Clara towards the truck, calling my gratitude back to Christina and Zeke as I opened the truck door. Clara glared at me, but she got in, strapping herself in with clumsy fingers as Tris swung into the truck. Tris moved to help Clara, but she just slapped her fingers away, glaring as she snapped, "I can do this myself. I'm not a child, _Tris."_ She hissed Tris' name darkly, and Tris sat back against the door, watching Clara as she buckled herself in.

I stared wearily over the steering wheel, willing myself to find the energy to start the truck. I felt drained and I wanted to skip forward in time, to when Clara was older and not so temperamental and she had forgiven me for not telling her about Tris. "Clara, don't speak to Tris like that."

Clara opened her mouth to say something, but Tris shot her a sharp look and she closed her mouth again, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back.


	23. Chapter 22

As soon as we got back, I ordered Clara up to her room. She glared at me and stomped all the way up the stairs. I leaned against the counter, rubbing my hands down my face.

"Do you want me to go talk to her?" Tris asked when I lifted my head to look at her, running my hand through my hair. I shook my head, staring at the scratch on the counter, from when Clara was five and ran into the kitchen while I was cooking dinner, singing so loudly that I jumped and dropped the knife I'd been holding.

"It wasn't a question," Tris said, and started up the staircase.

"Tris!" I called after her, but she was already gone, her footsteps light thumps against the staircase. I called her name again, but she didn't reappear. I sighed softly and started after her, walking up the stairs quietly so that Clara wouldn't stick her head out of her bedroom and start yelling.

When I came to Clara's room, her door was ajar and I paused. That meant it had been open since Clara stormed in there twenty minutes ago. I could hear voices inside, not yelling, just talking, so I just stood by Clara's door, barely noticing the faded flecks of purple on the wood as I listened.

" _. . . _you _want?" _Clara snapped from inside. I imagined her glare and almost stormed in then, but I forced myself to stay put. I wanted to see where this went.

"_I just want to talk," _I heard Tris say.

"_What about?" _Clara said, and even though I couldn't see her, I heard the caution in her voice.

"_Me. And you. And your dad."_

"_I don't want to talk," _Clara said.

"_Please, Clara," _Tris said, and she sounded desperate. Something twisted in my ribcage, pulling at the muscles around my heart, scratching and pulling at them. I didn't hear Clara answer, but she must have nodded, because Tris said, "_He didn't mean to hurt you, Clara. He loves you."_

"_Then why didn't he tell me?" _Clara asked, in a tone that made my chest feel tight. She hadn't used that tone since she was little, and thunder storms gave her nightmares.

"_Because he wanted to protect you, unless it turned out that it wasn't really me," _Tris said. That wasn't strictly true, but if she got Clara to stop hating me, I couldn't exactly object. _"And he wasn't exactly sure how to tell you. It wasn't something he could openly just come out and say."_

Clara was silent for a very long time and Tris didn't say anything while she waited for Clara to say something.

"_I thought you were dead," _Clara said, after a very long time. Her voice was small, and she sounded close to tears. _"I thought I'd lost you before I'd even met you."_

_I know," _Tris said quietly. "F_or what it's worth, a lot of people thought I'd died."_

I heard Clara laughed shakily, and I decided to leave them to it, retreating back down the hallway and down into the kitchen to start cooking dinner.

I had a pot of half-cooked pasta on the stove when Tris emerged, pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail. I turned away from the stove, turning to face her.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

Tris' eyes flicked up to mine, her lips curving into a smile. "You weren't supposed to be listening."

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

Tris lifted her shoulder into a shrug. "I didn't like seeing her so angry at you. I don't know if it worked. I would have stayed up there longer, but she kind of . . . fell asleep."

"Damned alcohol," I muttered, turning to check on the pasta. I could feel Tris' eyes on my back, between my shoulder blades, and I felt the urge to shiver.

"Are you upset about the fact that she was drinking, or the fact that she was drinking with this ex-boyfriend of hers?" Tris asked.

"Both," I muttered, turning to face her. Tris looked mildly surprised, her fingers tapping against the counter insistently.

"What's so bad about him? I mean, if he makes her happy – "

"That's the problem. He doesn't. He takes advantage of her, makes her feel like crap, but yet she still keeps going back to him."

"God, _why?_" Tris asked, and I wished I could answer that. I wished I could tell her why Clara couldn't seem to stay away from someone who was so bad for her. I opened by mouth to answer her, but then I closed it again, unsure of what I was supposed to say. Eventually, I turned to check the pasta and said, "I don't know."

I heard Tris sigh and as I turned back to her, she said, "You said this morning that you wanted to show me something."

"It was the memorial, where we found Clara. There's five around the city – one each at what used to be the Factions. They all have the same list of name on them, but they're all different colours – the colours that the Factions used to be. I wanted to show you them, but I don't like the idea of leaving Clara here. Not while she's drunk and Marcus is floating around somewhere."

"About that . . ." Tris said. As I watched, she dug a small, crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. I read the address off it and looked at her, puzzled. I had a vague idea on whose address it was, but I didn't dare to hope just yet just in case it turned out that I was wrong.

"Christina handed me that while we were waiting for you." Tris said. "That is Marcus' address."


	24. Chapter 23

I rolled the piece of paper between my fingers thoughtfully. I'd stared at it for a long time after Tris had given it to me, only snapping out of my trance when I heard Tris moving around the stove, doing her best to stop the past from burning. I'd shoved the piece of paper into my pocket then, where it had stayed while I made dinner and ate it quietly, the address in my pocket like a block of lead against my upper thigh.

"Are you alright?" Tris asked, pulling me out of my internal reverie, and I looked up as she moved to sit beside me, reaching up to tighten her ponytail. "You've been really quiet."

I nodded. "Yeah. Just can't get this address out of my head. Did Christina mention how she got this, by the way?"

Tris shrugged. "She works in monitoring who comes in and out of the city. I'd be surprised if she couldn't find out where he's living."

"I guess," I muttered, looking down at the piece of paper.

"You want to go check it out, don't you?" Tris asked quietly, smiling softly.

"Yeah. But I don't like the idea of leaving Clara here on her own, and you won't like me leaving you on babysitting duty, so we'll have to save it for tomorrow."

Tris nodded. "So we'll go after you get back from tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal."

I smiled and nodded, stuffing the note back into my pocket before pressed a kiss to her mouth quickly. When I drew away, I could see a small smile playing on her mouth as I brushed a few strands of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear.

"Are you going to tell Clara about everything that we've found?" Tris asked, sitting back and crossing her legs.

I nodded. "She's spent the last two days hating me because I've kept stuff from her, so I'm going to tell her. And she has a right to know as well, Tris."

"But we're not taking her when we go to . . . whatever we're going to do when we go to Marcus'?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Definitely not. But I'm going to start teaching her basic self-defence. You want to help?"

"Yeah, but . . . do you really think he'll try anything? I mean, Tobias, seriously – "

"I know. I know I'm being protective and an all-round pain in the arse, but I just want to know that she _can _protect herself."

Tris nodded and silently took my hand, her fingers slipping through the gaps in mine and squeezing.

* * *

Tris was still asleep when I woke the next morning, her arm draped loosely across my middle and her head resting on my shoulder. Carefully, so that I wouldn't wake her, I slipped out of the bed and padded downstairs, turning on the kettle to make myself a coffee. A few minutes later Clara walked into the kitchen, her hair pulled up into a haphazard bun, and her eyes weary as she jumped into one of the stools e kept on the other side of the counter, leaning her cheek into her hand and yawning.

"Here," I said, smiling, as I poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter towards her. Clara mumbled something that sounded like 'thanks' and wrapped her hands around the mug. She slowly raised it to her lips and took a long drink, emptying one half of it before she actually stopped to breathe. When she looked up, her blue eyes looked more alert, instead of the bloodshot look they'd held as a product of prior alcohol consumption and waking up at an hour that was much earlier than her body was used to.

"Dad?" Clara asked quietly, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Mm-hmm?" I asked, taking a sip of my own coffee.

"I'm sorry," Clara said quietly. "About how much of a bitch I've been the past couple of days. I just . . . it was a lot to deal with. I have spent my whole childhood believing this woman . . . Tris . . . was dead, and then you turn around and tell me that she's alive and that she's _my mother."_

I nodded. "Clara, you need to understand – I wanted to tell you. Really, I did. But my main problem was that I had no idea where to start. It's not exactly . . . it's not exactly something that's easy to say."

Clara looked down, nodding as she drew an invisible pattern on the countertop. "I know. I am happy you told me, Dad."

I nodded, watching as Clara absentmindedly traced her fingertip around the rim of her mug. "Is there something else, Clara?"

"Do I have to start calling her mum now? Because, like, I know she is and I can see that we are – I look like her. I've got her eyes – but, it doesn't _feel _like she is."

"Clara," I said, leaning down so that I was eye level with her as she looked up. "You don't have to call Tris anything but Tris until you want to, alright? If you don't feel like calling her Mum, then don't. Not until you're ready to."

Clara smiled and then leaned across the counter, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her face into my shoulder. "Thank you, Daddy."

I pressed a kiss to her hair and then she dropped back into her seat. "Dad, how _is_ Tris alive?"

I recounted everything Tris and I had discovered so far about that fateful day at the Bureau, and when I got to the part about Marcus' address, her eyes lit up and before she could ask, I said, "No. _No. No way _are you coming with us to check it out."

"But Dad – "

"No, Clara, he's dangerous and you're not coming," I said.

Clara gave me a pointed look. "He's a harmless old man!"

"Old man, yes. Harmless, no," said a new voice from the doorway, and Clara and I both turned to look at Tris as she said, "You're not coming."

Clara looked between me and Tris, her mouth agape. "Are you serious?"

"One hundred percent," I said. "Go on, get your butt upstairs and get ready for school."

Clara sighed, but she got up and walked up the stairs. I shot Tris a surprised look as she walked towards me, grabbing herself an apple and biting into it.

"Surprised?" she asked.

"Very," I replied, leaning over to kiss her. I felt her smile, her hand sliding around the bac of my neck. She tasted like apple, and when I drew away, I asked, "Sleep well?"

Tris' mouth curved into a smile. "Very."


	25. Chapter 24

I glanced up and down the street before I knelt down in front of Marcus' front door. Behind me, Tris glanced around nervously and said, "You know, I don't think breaking and entering is what Christina had in mind when she gave me that address."

I shrugged my shoulders as the door swung open and I stood, looking at her over my shoulder. "What she won't know won't hurt her."

"Mm-hmm," Tris replied, ducking under my arm as I held the door open for her. I followed after her, closing the door as silently as I could, wincing as it squeaked on its hinges. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that if I got caught doing this, I'd probably lose my job, but I kept pushing that to the back of my mind. Right now, finding out if Marcus was the man who orchestrated faking Tris' death, and whether he was a danger to Clara was more important. And if ensuring the safety of Tris and Clara meant the loss of my job, then so be it.

I glanced around Marcus' apartment. The darkness sent odd shapes and shadows across the walls and floor, and in one corner of the room, sat a large desk. Tris was standing in front of it, one hand holding the edge of the desk, almost as if to steady herself, while the other sorted through the various files and bits and pieces sitting upon the desk.

"Find anything?" I asked, moving to stand beside her. Tris silently shook her head, sighing softly as she pushed the file she'd been holding and brushed her hair out of her face, looking up at me helplessly. "There's nothing here. And even if there was, the only way we could know for sure is to ask Marcus."

"You say that like he'd actually admit to it if I asked," I said. Tris opened her mouth to say something, but then a voice from behind me said, "So what _exactly _are we looking for, anyway?"

I whipped around, coming to face another pair of grey-blue eyes, but instead being paired with blonde hair, they were paired with light brown hair.

"Clara!" Tris said from behind me, surprise filling her voice. Clearly, she's thought the very same thing as me – that Clara had done as we'd told her, and stayed home to do her homework.

"Hey, Dad," Clara said, grinning. I noticed that she was dressed for activities such as this – she was wearing dark black jeans and a dark-coloured hooded jumper, with black boots on her feet.

"You're not meant to be here," I told her.

"Neither are you," Clara countered. "So what are we looking for?"

"You'll make one hell of a politician one day, kid," I told her. "We're looking for evidence that Marcus was the one who organised for the 'death' of your mother."

Clara glanced across at Tris quickly before looking back at me. "But you can't find anything?"

I shrugged helplessly. "We don't even really know what we're looking for."

Clara bit her lip, her eyes troubled. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, quietly, "It has been sixteen years, Dad. It's been a long time. I don't think any physical evidence would still be in Chicago, if there ever was any."

I sighed, running my hand down my face. "It was a long shot."

Beside me, Tris opened her mouth to say something, but then I heard a key fit into the lock. Panicked, I hauled Tris and Clara into the bedroom. I turned to Clara, leaning down a little so I was eye level with her. "Hide under the bed and don't come out until I find you, okay?"

Clara nodded, but I could see fear swimming in her eyes. She'd never met this man before, but he scared her more than I'd ever seen anyone scare her.

"Hey," I said quietly. "I'm not going to let him hurt you, okay? I promise."

Clara nodded, brushing unshed tears out of her eyes. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead quickly. "I love you."

Without another word, Clara dashed underneath the bed, sliding underneath it easily, and I opened the closet, yanking Tris in with me as the front door closed behind Marcus. I listened as Marcus dropped his keys onto the table and then walked into the bedroom. Tris drew in a sharp breath as Marcus switched the lights on, and I drew my arms around her waist, holding her against me as much for my benefit as for hers. Through the gaps in the door of the closet, I could see Clara move underneath the bed, huddling herself smaller as she looked at me, or where she thought we were, as she looked a little to the right. I hoped she knew that I would lay down my life before I let anyone, let alone my own father, hurt her – her and Tris both.

I clenched my jaw as some of the dust in Marcus' closet climbed up my nose, and I almost coughed. As I watched, Marcus walked out and I could hear him moving around the kitchen. I had seen a window set into the wall of the bedroom before I'd pulled Tris into the closet, but I didn't fully trust myself to be able to get all three of us – or even Tris and Clara – out before Marcus returned.

As if she was reading my train of thought, Clara slipped out of from underneath the bed. I started to cry out, but Tris turned in my arms, covering my mouth with her hands. I watched through the cracks in the door as Clara moved towards the window. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and then slid the window open and slid through before letting it drop shut. The window slammed back against the windowsill with a quiet thud, and the glass rattled, and Marcus stormed back into the room, but Clara was already gone. He cast a look around and then turned towards the closet and for a brief moment, I was sure he could see me, could see Tris and I huddled together in the small pace, could see me barely holding my own panic down.

Swallowing, I pulled Tris back as I stepped backwards, stepping carefully around the shoes on the floor, until I hit the wall. Beside me, Tris flattened herself against the wall, between the wall and the clothes hanging on the rack as Marcus opened the door. I thanked whatever higher power had compelled Marcus to store his shoes on the floor of this closet as my hand found Tris' in the dark, my palm pressing against hers.

Marcus closed the door and I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, drawing my arms around Tris. I slid down the wall so that I was sitting on the floor against the junction of the walls as I pulled out my phone and sent a quick message to Clara:

**Got stuck at M's. Will try to get home ASAP. Go home and lock the doors. I love you.**

Within minutes, Clara answered;

**Already done. Stay safe.**

With that, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and rested my forehead against Tris' temple, closing my eyes for a brief moment.


	26. Chapter 25

When I woke up the next morning, Tris and I were still huddled together in Marcus' closet, surrounded my smells I haven't smelt in years, with memories crushing down on me like my claustrophobia; fierce and heavy and suffocating. Half of my body felt numb, while the rest felt sore, like the back of my neck and my back did when I slept on the couch. I peered through the gaps in the closet door and watched as Marcus grabbed a bag off of his bed, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out. I heard the front door close and then the key slid into the lock, locking it.

I sighed softly, letting my head drop forward onto Tris' shoulder. Wearily, she raised her head, blinking. "Tobias? Wh . . . What's going on?"

"Marcus just left," I told he, and Tris looked around, blinking in confusion. "We slept in here?"

"Apparently so," I said, as Tris got to her feet. I got to my feet as Tris pushed the door open and moved towards the window. I followed, kneading a knot out of the muscle in my shoulder as she opened the window and slipped out. I swung out after her, my feet hitting the ground beside her with a dull thud.

As we started walking down the street to where we'd left my truck, I dialled Clara. She answered after one ring, breathlessly, as if she'd had to run to the phone. "_Dad?"_

"Clara. Are you alright?"

"_Yeah, I'm fine. I was up half the night worrying about you two."_

"So you're at home?"

"_Kind of."_

I glanced at Tris. "What the _hell _does 'kind of' mean?"

I stopped listening, so naturally, I missed Clara's reply, as we reached my truck and found Christina leaning against it, her arms folded over her chest and a completely unamused expression on her face.

"You stayed at Christina's." I said, piecing it together.

"_Yeah I just said that."_

"I'll talk to you later," I said, and hung up. Christina, her lips pursed, continued to lean against my truck. I braced myself, and she delivered.

"Breaking and entering?" Christina yelled, her eyes blazing with anger. "Are you serious? And why the _hell _would you drag _Clara_ into it? I know you two haven't exactly bonded much lately, but oh my God, Tobias, this is ridicu – "

"I didn't," I snapped. "She followed us, even though I _specifically _told her not to. Do you really think I would _willingly _take her with us? Did you really think that?"

"Tobias," Tris said quietly, putting her hand on my arm. I glanced over at her and the corner of her mouth twitched up briefly, before her hand moved down, finding my fingers and wrapping her own around them, squeezing tightly. Her touch grounded me and I took a deep breath, turning to look back at Christina. Even Christina looked calmer, anger not swirling behind her eyes so violently.

Sighing, Christina stood upright, moving away from my truck. "I suppose you'll want to see her."

"You suppose right," Tris said.

* * *

Clara was curled up on the couch in Christina's living room, her body buried under a thick blanket and her head propped up on her arm, her cheek resting against her palm. I walked over to the couch and noticed a spot of red on Clara's temple, practically obscured by her hair. It was then that I noticed Clara's closed eyes and even breathing. She was fast asleep, and if any of us tried to wake her up now, we'd have a hell of a time with it. I knew that much.

Slowly, I knelt down in front of her and swept her hair back from her face. The wound on the side of her head was small, but her hair had spread the blood across her skin, making it look much worse than it actually was. Her hair was matted and knotted, but she looked otherwise unharmed.

Clara made a soft noise and her arm dropped from its place where it had been supporting her head. Gravity suddenly pulled her head down and she suddenly jerked it back up, blinking rapidly as she looked around.

"Dad?" Clara asked as she saw me, her hand coming up to touch her temple. She groaned at the contact, as if remembering that it hurt.

"Shit," Clara muttered, as her hand came away sticky with blood.

"What happened, Clara?" Tris asked quietly, gesturing to Clara's head. Clara stared at Tris for a moment before looking back at me, and she sighed.

"After I snuck out of Marcus', I took off down the street. Some idiot had forgotten to bring their dog in for the night, and the stupid thing ran out in front of me. I tripped over the damn animal and hit my head. I don't even know how I got here."

"You could have a concussion," Tris said. "We should take you to the hospital."

Christina and I both turned to look at Tris, and although I could see heat creeping up the back of her neck, she looked between us and asked, "What?"

"Nothing," I replied, smiling lightly as I turned back to Clara. "Go and have a shower, Clara. I'll go and get you some clothes."

"Okay," Clara mumbled, yawning as she pushed the blanket away, getting to her feet and shuffling out of the room. A minute later, I heard a door close and I sighed softly, twisting so my back was facing the couch and collapsing against it as I heard the shower running. I felt Tris settle beside me and I opened my eyes, reaching across and grasping her hand, squeezing tightly because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the memory of the walls of Marcus' closet pressing against me, or the paranoia that he had seen Tris and I huddled close together as we held our breath, praying that he wouldn't see us.


	27. Chapter 26

I kept Clara home from school that day, and I pulled another sick day home from work so that I could go to the hospital with Tris and Clara. I was pretty sure that Clara didn't have a concussion, but I still wanted to take her in, just in case. I didn't know how we'd explain the injury, but Clara had told me she'd think of something. I didn't doubt that she would – Clara had proved herself, on more occasions than I dared to count, to be a skilled and talented liar. She'd complained of a headache, but I'd noticed that there was something different in her demeanour, in the way she acted. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I could see that accepting that Tris was her mother, and that Tris would have woken up under the same roof as her every day for the past sixteen years if she could have, had done her a world of good.

When the doctor called Clara in, I stayed out in the waiting room with Tris, watching as Clara smiled reassuringly before she disappeared. When she did, I looked down at my feet, studying a scratch in the floor, probably left over from when this was an Erudite building.

"At most, it's a concussion," Tris said quietly, taking my hand and squeezing tightly. "She'll be fine, Tobias. Give her a day and she'll be good."

"I know," I said quietly, squeezing her hand. "I just . . . I worry about her."

I saw Tris smile in my perioral vision, leaning forward to rest her head against my shoulder. "I know."

I turned my head and kissed the top of her head and Tris tucked her legs underneath her as she snuggled up beside me, her arm looping around my back. We stayed like that for a long time until Clara reappeared, grinning. Tris, hearing her footsteps, turned her head and opened her eyes. "What's the verdict?"

"I'm all good," Clara said. "I'm a bit bruised and my head hurts like hell, but the Doc reckons I'm concussion-free."

Happily, she dropped down into the seat beside me, twisting her hair up into a bun at the top of her head. Tris had bandaged Clara's head that morning – something that had amazed both me and Christina. Tris, it seemed, had learned a few new tricks over the years. I started to get up and Tris reluctantly got to her feet.

"So what'd you tell him?" I asked as I drove home.

Clara grinned, almost mischievously. I swear, she hadn't smiled this much since she was five. It was a nice change. "I told him I snuck to go see Ryan, but I tripped over a skateboard that someone had left out and hit my head. It's not exactly lying, is it?"

"Well, no, it's not," I agreed. "You did sneak out and you did trip over _something."_

Clara grinned, but it slipped as I continued, "Speaking of sneaking out . . ."

"Dad – " Clara started.

"No, you snuck out," I said. I hated to hammer down on her like this, but she knew she'd done the wrong thing. "You disobeyed me, Clara, and you snuck out and followed us to Marcus'."

"After what you told me about him, you can't seriously have expected me to just stay put!" Clara argued.

"It's _because _of what I told you about you that I told you to stay home," I countered.

"And why we thought you would," Tris added, her hand curled around the handle above the door.

Clara looked between us while I kept my eyes on the road. "Are you serious? You just expected – "

"One hundred percent serious," I said. "You're grounded, Clara."

Clara sighed. "How long?"

"A week."

"_A week?" _Clara complained. "That's not fair!"

"Keep going and I'll make it two," Tris remarked. Clara opened her mouth to say something, but she closed it again, clearly thinking better of it.

"Think about it like this," I said, "if you'd snuck out to do anything other than help us with Marcus, you'd have been grounded for a month."

Clara sighed, sitting back against the seat. She dragged her hands down her face, groaning, but finally, she said, with a clearly repressed urge to start yelling, "_Fine."_

Tris smiled at her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Cheer up, Clara. It's only a week. Think of it as detox."

Clara's brow furrowed and she glanced at me, as if she expected this to be some inside joke that we were both in on. I simply shrugged; I didn't have the faintest idea what Tris was talking about. Puzzled, Clara looked at Tris while I kept switching my gaze between the road and Tris. "What from?"

"Ryan," Tris said, with a grin. Clara kicked Tris playfully in the shins, the two of them laughing. I grinned and then I heard a loud honk, even through the glass of the windshield. Cursing as Clara yelped in surprise, I swerved the car out of its path. I caught a glimpse of the driver's eyes – they were wide, terrified, and bloodshot. Why would _anyone _be drinking at four in the afternoon?

I started to swerve the truck back into the other lane, I saw a car coming towards us. I knew I'd never get to the other side of the road in time to avoid a head-on collision, and I threw Tris a panicked look, who returned it with wide eyes, wrapping her arms around Clara as I jerked on the steering wheel, so that instead of being hit head-on, the oncoming car would hit my side door, hopefully minimising injury to the two people I cared about the most in the world.

The last thing I saw before pain exploded in every point of my body and I blacked out was the image of my father's face, staring at me through the windscreen.


	28. Chapter 27

When I woke up, _everything _hurt. If I had been asked, I couldn't have pinpointed where it hurt the most; everywhere hurt just as much as everywhere else, almost too much for me to bear. I was cramped inside the mangled and warped cab of my truck, my head resting against the steering wheel, my arms draped around it in a sloppy embrace.

Breathing in itself was an effort, every breath sending a wave of sharp, intense pain that made me grit my teeth to keep from crying out, but I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. While twisting the truck around the way I had appeared to have saved much damage being made to the other side of the truck, the oncoming car couldn't have hit me directly; if it had, I'd have been killed instantly. By the looks of things, the other car had struck more towards the back, spinning the car around.

I looked across, looking to see if Tris and Clara were okay. I could see Tris, her blonde hair matted with blood as she leaned against the window, her hand braced against the dashboard.

I couldn't see Clara.

Frantically, I looked around, but I couldn't see her. The windscreen had been shattered, and I could see blood on the hood of the car. Clara must have been thrown from the car.

"Tris," I groaned, wanting to lift my head but unsure if the bones and muscles in my neck could still support my head. I watched as Tris slowly opened, her blue eyes looking around slowly, until they found me, and she dragged her tongue across her dry bottom lip. "Tobias? Wh – What . . . _Ow."_

"Clara was thrown from the truck," I said. "Can you see her?"

Tris looked around slowly and then her eyes found me. By the looks of things, she was a lot better off than I was, because she gave a little nod. "About ten metres away."

"Is she breathing?" I asked, wincing as another wave of pain shot through my body and my world spun. Much more of this and I was going to pass out again, I was sure of it.

"Yeah."

"Thank God," I said. I glanced around. "We need to call somebody."

Tris sighed, looking around. She spotted my phone, which was sitting on the seat between us. It must flown out of my jacket pocket when we crashed.

Carefully, slowly, Tris stretched her right arm out towards my phone. Nothing in it looked broken, and when she was sure that nothing was, she snatched it up, dialling a number as quickly as she could.

"Who are you calling?"

"Zeke," Tris replied, leaning back against the frame of the cab. "And an ambulance."

As it turned out, she called the ambulance first. I leaned against the steering wheel, my eyes scanning what I could see of the pavement for Clara as I blocked out the sound of Tris describing our situation to the operator on the other end of the line. I finally found her lying on the pavement – her blue jeans and grey hoodie were spotted with blood, and a portion of her hair, near her temple, was turning a horrible, reddish brown colour, and was matted with blood. I wondered how many bones she'd broken, even as I unrelentingly watched her chest rise and fall with each breath, counting each one.

A click snapped through my counting of Clara's breath and I looked at Tris, moving only my eyes. I could feel some kind of sticky substance drying on one side of my face, starting at my left temple and then running down the side of my face in a stream that finished just underneath my ear and guessed that I must have hit my own head at some point too.

I groaned quietly as another wave of pain ran up my body, but I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Clara, not really trusting myself to look anywhere else.

"Just hang on," Tris said quietly. "The ambulance will be here soon."

"I know," I said quietly. I could hear ambulance sirens distantly in the distance, gradually drawing closer and closer. "It's not me I'm worried about."

"Well I'm not even sure how you're still alive," Tris remarked, still leaning against the door. "You kind of look like death manifested."

"Thanks," I muttered, although I wasn't really paying attention. I was more focused on the effort it was taking to keep myself conscious – black spots kept dancing across my vision and I could now pinpoint that my head hurt the absolute most. It felt like something was pressing against my skull from everywhere, like it was trying condense it, trying to squash the brain that it held. I hoped that I would be able to stay conscious until the ambulance arrived, until Clara and Tris could be hauled away.

"Tobias?" Tris asked. Her voice sounded weak, but she looked better off than I felt.

"Mm-hm?" I asked, still fighting off the urge to pass out. The ambulance was just over a minute away, I guessed by the sound of the sirens. All I had to do was stay conscious for that long.

Easier said than done.

"Did you see who was driving the other car?"

I kept my eyes fixed on Clara, remembering my father's eyes staring at me through his windscreen. At first, I'd thought that he knew that we'd broken into his house and this was payback for it, but the longer I tried to reason it, the more I realised that was a little more than slightly ludicrous; Marcus had looked just as panicked as I'd felt, swerving out of the way of that drunken driver. Although I couldn't say for sure, I didn't think that he'd deliberately run us off the road.

"Marcus," I wheezed.

"Do you think he did it on purpose?"

I never got to answer because the ambulance pulled up. I watched as two medics got out and tended to Clara, and I finally allowed myself to slink back into the darkness.


End file.
